Born Mad
by Nerdy-Without-A-Doubt
Summary: Sherlock Holmes was always considered to be one of the brightest minds on all the earth, second to his brother, of course. That all changes, however, when an asylum-escapee winds up on his doorstep with a wide grin and the case of the century. That escapee's story is something special, and this is it.
1. Prologue

Prologue

My father never loved me, nor did my mother. They locked me away in an insane asylum, paying off the headmaster there to keep me. It's pathetic, really, how easily a man can be bought if you flash a few hundred thousand pounds in their face. My parents did just that. Those rich, pathetic monstrosities never wanted a child, and instead of putting me up for adoption, do you know what they did? They paid off the cruelest asylum in all of Great Britain to keep me locked away while my beasts of parents moved off to America to live a life of luxury. I was to never see daylight again, and I would live there in captivity like an animal until death was gracious enough to greet me.

Too bad I'm not staying.


	2. An Insane Escape

Chapter 1

"An Insane Escape"

I suppose being around the insane for my entire life might have affected me for these past eleven years. I mean, who would risk becoming a fugitive against the entire British Parliament just to prove that their parents were conceited idiots? I should be placed in an asylum for this lunacy! Oh, the irony is immense, isn't it?

I laughed out loud to myself at this thought, falling to my back on my wired cot and working free of the bonds of my straight jacket within seconds. It was just too simple to be true! Oh, but it was true. So very, wonderfully true!

I let out the highest fake scream I could muster so I could be sure someone would come to see what was going on. After all, I was in Parkhurst. No ordinary scream would alert anyone of something being wrong. The screams of insanity were everywhere.

Upon hearing someone coming, I lay myself down on the floor, feigning unconsciousness and placing my hands as they would be if I were still bound.

Within seconds a guard was bending over, placing two fingers on my neck to feel for my pulse. However, his concern didn't last long as I opened my eyes, hissing, "Surprise," with a grin and the bashing of my skull into his. (Yeah, I know. Eleven years old and already bashing heads.)

He reared back away from me upon the shock, but I didn't hesitate. My knee was in his stomach, and his neck was broken before he could even think of screaming.

I kicked his body aside, shrugging off my straight jacket and picking up the guard's pager as it buzzed, my hearing a static-filled voice saying, "Officer Brown, what is wrong with Aurora?"

I clicked the speaker button, holding it to my lips. "Why, I'm sorry, but Officer Brown can't come to the phone right now. May I take a message?"

I laughed triumphantly at the headmaster's cry of alarm while I put the pager in my back pocket with a grin, taking the .38 caliber revolver and taser with me as well. "Sorry, Brown, but you won't be needing these anymore."

I exited my Class A Security cell without another thought. I paid no mind to the ear-splitting screeches of insanity echoing throughout the stone prison as I made my way down the hall and up the stairwell, shooting anyone and everyone who stood in my way.

The escape was too easy, and as I look back on that moment, I realize that I was inwardly hoping for someone to try and stop me, for someone to lock me back up and let me try again at my escape. But no one did. No one could. No one stood a chance against me, and they knew it too. Soon, all the world would know it.

I stood on the roof of Parkhurst, looking over the edge and at the ocean waters crashing against the rocky cliff below. Whoever designed that place had the right idea in mind. The place was a geographical oddity in the middle of the ocean, at least a mile high from the water's surface and twenty away from any form of land.

It was beginning to storm, quite coincidentally, I soon realized. Lightning was flashing all around me, and thunder roared in my ears as the wind picked up and the storm grew in intensity. I struggled to keep my footing at the edge of that building, and it almost seemed like the winds wanted me to escape. They were screaming at me, trying to guide me to freedom. I could hear the guards trying to break down the door to the roof, but none of that mattered. Only one thing did, and I was going to have that.

I took a breath, risking one look at the guards now running across the roof to me. I gave them a wry smile and a mock salute before turning my back to them and closing my eyes.

I jumped.

I thrived on the adrenaline rush I gained from breaking the water's surface. I shot back up almost instantly, and I can say I never felt quite the thrill. I was actually laughing as I swam away, giddy with pride and joy.

"Ya hear that Parkhurst?" I screamed over my shoulder, still laughing as I swam off. "It's the sound of freedom! Let it sink in, boys! You're never going to feel it again when I'm through!"

I don't remember much of my journey back. I do, however, remember collapsing onto the shore of Britain with the greatest exhaustion I had ever experienced. My limbs felt like lead, and I found I couldn't go any further, my chest heaving with each breath I took. I simply lay there, sprawled out on the beach shore in a pair of soaking wet jeans and a drenched purple t-shirt. I must've been quite the sight, an eleven year-old escaped mental patient laughing her head off, but I was too tired and overjoyed to care. I welcomed sleep for once, letting Morpheus claim me for I knew he held a night of pleasant dreams for me.


	3. On the Run from the Sane

Chapter 2

"On the Run from the Sane"

Why did I think this was going to be easy?

I mentally cursed myself as I ran through the docks, a good fifty men chasing after me. I had lost quite a few of them already, but there were still about ten guards that wanted my head on a silver platter.

I let my instincts take over, and, before long, I was running along the boardwalks, leaping onto a fishing boat and continuing to jump from vessel to vessel as I made my escape.

Well, at least I got a good night's sleep.

"Get the bloody heck out of my way!" I shouted, pushing through the sailors before leaping off the last boat in the line and silently thanking The Lord as I landed on dry ground and kept running with no real destination in mind.

I let out a groan of annoyance as bullets whizzed by me, barely missing my ear. I darted behind a few shipping crates and pulled out the revolver I had taken from the asylum. Of course Parkhurst's men would start shooting. That's why they had guns, right?

Well, I had one too.

"Okay, I've got six rounds. Ten guards," I muttered to myself, reloading the revolver and sparing a look to see how close the men were to apprehending me. "Two shots have to be able to take out three men each. The rest one each."

I sighed, pulling back the hammer. "Make 'em count, Aurora."

One shot. One down.

Two shots. Two down.

Three shots. Five down.

Four shots. Eight down.

Five shots. Nine down

Six shots. Ten down.

I whistled fondly, peeking my head out from cover to find each man with a large whole in his chest and toppling like dominoes. "Man, I'm good."

"Not good enough."

Aw schist.

I ducked my head to avoid the meaty fist aiming straight for me, but I wasn't fast enough, the force of the blow sending me crashing into a crate of cantaloupes. (Cantaloupes of all things? Gosh those hurt. Why couldn't I have fallen into a crate of pillows?)

"Aw, did the big brute hurt his hand?" I gave a mock sympathetic pout as I got to my feet and saw the attacker rubbing his knuckles. "My, you're an ugly fellow. Dark beady eyes, crooked teeth, a frame the size of a truck… I'll admit you're strong, but have you ever heard of dental floss?

"Don't talk so fast girl."

I gave a sigh as I was raised off the ground by a hand around my throat, my toes barely touching the ground. I grinned at him despite the fact I was being slowly suffocated. "Did you really think that I left Parkhurst with only a pistol for protection?"

His eyes widened in shock (quite literally) as I whipped out the taser and rammed it into his neck. I was dropped immediately, his falling unconscious within seconds.

"Let's see that was how many men? Forty? Fifty? And all against little ol' me." I laughed, reaching into the brute's holster and taking out his revolver to inspect it. "Hmm… Another .38 caliber. Don't mind if I do."

I emptied that pistol, reloading my revolver with the bullets I had just acquired. It would have been easier just to take the new revolver, but I really preferred the one I was already in possession of. It was smaller and more lightweight and could get the job done, and that's all I really needed.

"Let's see," I whistled, climbing up a stack of shipping crates as to get a better idea on where I should go. "I want to avoid Scotland Yard; they're probably already looking for me. I need somewhere with little crowds that I could get recognized in."

I grinned, hopping off the crates and heading off in the direction of the one place they wouldn't expect me to be.

221B Baker Street, here I come.


	4. Elementary, My Dear Holmes

Chapter 3

"Elementary, My Dear Holmes"

I picked the lock to the old flat using a few bobby pins I had found and slowly entered. I was silent as I crept up those seventeen steps, easing my way into the drawing room without taking a breath. No one home? Perfect.

I was seated in a plush armchair and playing with a skull when they returned, and I must say I rather enjoyed the look of shock that flickered across the consulting detective's face while the doctor nearly keeled over in faint. "Mister Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Hamish Watson, I presume?"

"Oh, don't bother going for the revolver," I chuckled as Watson's hand reached for the pistol resting on the end kitchen table. "You wouldn't shoot even if you held it in your hands. The good doctor's too much of a nurturer for that."

"I've killed people," he stated firmly, and I grinned.

"Well, so have I!" I exclaimed, throwing the skull into the air with a laugh and catching it again. "Join the club, Doctor. Now, Mister Holmes, can you tell me where you got this piece from? I daresay, I think I know this fellow. He was a good friend of mine from the asylum. Well, when I say friend… Anyways, they called him Psycho Steve. Say, did you know it was possible to murder seven people with a plastic fork? I learned a lot from Steve…"

"The things you learn," Watson remarked dryly, catching the skull as I tossed it to him and turned my attention to the detective glaring daggers at me.

I leaned forward in my seat, clasping my hands together as I asked eagerly, "Now, would you like to go first, or should I?"

"Ladies first…" he murmured thoughtfully, circling me like a vulture around its prey. I paid it no mind.

"Well, your clothes are wet but only the elbow, meaning you were leaning on something with your arm propped up. Now I would think outside, but, no, it hasn't rained in this portion of London. There's a faint smell of bourbon about you so I would say you were at a bar. Now you aren't one to drink by what I've heard so you must have been on a case."

I grinned as I was given an even more threatening glare. "So I was right! Splendid! Now let's continue, shall we? Doctor Watson came with you as a back-up, yet he left his revolver here. Why? If he was working on a case with you, of course he would bring his military issued pistol! It's a common defense. Well, obviously he hadn't planned on helping you. He was going on a date, and you tagged along again!"

"How do you know so much about us?" His voice was cold and calculating, yet there was curious tone beneath it.

"Elementary, my dear Holmes! It was really a rather simple deduction," I stated simply, loving how irked the two men were becoming. "Now would you care to hear about the doctor's date? Oh, of course you would. Long, shoulder length brown hair. Crimson lipstick. About five foot seven. Another teacher? Really, Doctor, pick something more exciting for a change."

"Is that it?"

"No, not at all, my dear Holmes! She wore a fine red dress with sequins and a white jacket along with a necklace of fake pearls. How's that?"

"You're quite the intelligent one," he remarked simply before nearly snarling, "My turn."

He gave me a quick look-over. "You've been on the run."

"Told by my shoes and probably the near broken jawbone along with the bruise forming beneath my left eye."

"Correct. You've been firing a gun recently."

"Gun residue on my hands. Next?"

"You were locked away for quite some time."

"My pale complexion and the bruising on my wrists. Give me something more complicated."

"You've been strangled."

"Yep! Yesterday morning."

"You seek my help."

"No schist, Sherlock. Now sit down before I change my mind and just decide to kill you both," I said simply, waving for them to grab a seat.

So I explained everything to them. I told them of how my parents paid to have me locked away. I told them how I learned to fake my being in the cell when I was really in the headmaster's office, reading and gaining as much knowledge of possible. I told them of my escape a mere two days ago, and I told them of how I was now a fugitive across the country.

To put it lightly, I was surprised to find their not running to the phone and dialing up Scotland Yard.

"Sooooo…" I drawled out, tapping my fingers against the arm of my seat without uncertainty. "Will ya help me?"

"Help you with what? Revenge on Parkhurst or finding your parents?" Holmes questioned simply, and I grinned.

"Both, of course."

"I was so hoping you'd say that. Do you have any clue as to who you really are?"

"None whatsoever. I do know, however, that they left me at Parkhurst on exactly

September twenty-ninth, 1999, a mere day after I was born."

"September twenty-ninth? That's today," Watson pointed out, whereas Holmes and I

merely glared at him for a bit at the absurdly obvious remark.

"Nooooooo… You know what? I thought today was April first! That would explain the idiocy in this world at the least," I remarked sarcastically before groaning, "I've been out of Parkhurst for only a couple days now, and all I've seen is stupidity. Mister Holmes, how do you bear it? I'm beginning to think the insane are brighter! No offense to you, Doctor. You seem near the brightest of these pigheaded fools."

Doctor Watson didn't seem to find it a compliment, but he smiled just the same as he stood, patting my shoulder lightly. "Well, for what's it worth, happy late birthday. Care for a coffee or tea?"

"I've never had either. Surprise me," I grinned.

"You're not such a bad thing; are you?" he murmured, more to himself than me. "Just a bit erratic, but good hearted none the less."

"Whatever helps ya sleep at night, Doc."

"Let me ask you something."

I felt his hand rest on my shoulder, and I looked up in confusion. "Yeah?"

"You said you killed men. These were in your escape, right?"

I gave a fake gasp. "Why, I'm hurt! Thinking little old me would kill in cold blood."

I grinned at the chuckle that escaped his throat, his ruffling my already tousled onyx hair. I lost my smile, however, upon meeting eyes with the detective again.

"What?" I asked defiantly. "I'm not allowed to be happy? Here, pass me Steve's head, and I'll go back to the sadistic creature I was a few minutes ago."

"Don't touch my skull."

"Well, alright then, Mister Snappy-Pants. Can I touch Steve's skull then?"

I stopped at the look he gave me, my instantly retracting my statement. "Okay, so the great Sherlock Holmes isn't one for puns. I can work with that. What did the detective say to the corpse-"

Once again, he glared at me.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Yeesh. Hey, Doc, is he always like this?"

"Mostly."

"You poor soul."

"I don't mind it," Watson said simply, setting a cup of tea in my hands. "He's different; that's all. Now careful. It's hot."

"I like the way you think!" I grinned. "See if the rest of the world thought like that, I wouldn't be in this predicament. The world needs more like you, Doc."

He smiled, finally taking one of my remarks as a compliment. "Well, thank you."

"The world could also use a few more like us-" I gestured to Mister Snappy-Pants. "-too, though. I mean, we've got what? Three people on this earth who can actually think? That's kind of sad."

"Three?"

"Oh, now Mister Snappy-Pants wants to talk to me." I rolled my eyes. "Yes three. You've a brother; don't you?"

"How do you know about Mycroft?"

"I told you. I researched everything I could in Parkhurst. You don't think I would learn about the great detective's elder brother?"

"Yes… Yes, I suppose."

"Oh, come now; spare a smile, Mister Holmes. It's one thing to be stoic, but that gives you no reason to glare."

"You-" He jabbed a finger in my chest as he got up. "-give me every reason to."

"Well, what'd I do? Geez, you crack a few jokes, and you get the third degree-"

"It's simply not possible that anyone could have this much intellect at your age," he said simply, bending over to look me in the eye. "However, once you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

"Gosh, you're tall."

"And you're short."

"Touché. Say, I see your foils on the mantel; do you fence?"

"I thought you'd never ask."


	5. All's Well That Ends Well

Chapter 4

"All's Well That Ends Well… Or Not"

"En garde, Monsieur Holmes!"

For once, Mister Snappy-Pants didn't seem too dreadfully annoyed by my existence as we fenced. He had backed me up to the coffee table, my parrying and striking whenever I deemed fit.

"You are quite skilled," he remarked thoughtfully as I ducked away from a blow to leap onto the table. "Where did you learn?"

"I read a manual online in the headmaster's office," I answered simply, jumping back away from the table as he took a step towards me. Our foils met, and we were soon face to face, my grinning madly as he simply smirked. "Pretty good for just reading, eh?"

"Good," he admitted with a nod, and with a few swift swipes of the blade, I found myself on the ground, his foot on my stomach and his blade at my neck to hold me down. He finally gave a real smile as he taunted, "But not good enough."

"I say, Sir, that was bloody brilliant! The way you hit my wrist to knock the blade out of my hand and then putting the hilt into my gut to knock me off balance- Perfect! Utterly perfect!" I exclaimed, taking the detective's offered hand to get to my feet.

"I try."

"No, you don't. People like us- We're naturally like this. You don't try. You just do!"

"Quite right, I suppose," he remarked with an amused and pleased look.

I grinned triumphantly, jabbing my elbow in his side playfully. "See? I'm not too terrible. You just gotta get used to me; that's all."

"Aurora, do you have a place to stay for the night?" Watson piped up with some concern, and I shook my head, only to find a pillow and blanket being thrown at me. "Get some rest, Kid."

"Can do, Doc!" I called as he retired himself. "Thanks!"

"Just don't break anything," Holmes murmured, pointing to the couch before leaving to his bedroom as well.

With a satisfied grin, I eased myself down onto the sofa with a yawn, curling up beneath the blanket and closing my eyes with the murmur, "Twas a good day."

I woke to a hand being placed over my mouth. I instantly snapped alert, all too aware of what was happening, and bolted out of my makeshift bed to head for the door. "Doctor Watson! Mister Holmes-!"

I felt a revolver connect with the back of my skull, and I crumpled to my hands and knees, trying to regain my senses. My vision was blurred and fading quickly, and my mind was too numb to comprehend anything. The last thing I heard before completely blacking out was a snarl, "I told ya we'd find 'er. Let's get outta here," and as I felt a swift slice of a fencing foil through my side, I finally fell unconscious.

I groaned coming to, instinctively moving to hold my head in my hands when I realized three things:

1\. I had a headache to cover all of Russia.

2\. I was going to kill someone very soon.

3\. I was hogtied and couldn't move, much less kill anyone.

I pried open my eyes, wincing at the sudden movement and flare of light. I had so many swear words I wanted to release right then, but upon finding myself gagged, I couldn't say them.

Bummer.

I can hardly begin to describe the pain I was in. My right side stung from where the kidnappers had sliced me with the fencing sword. Normal foils wouldn't have hurt me at all, but no. My attackers just had to remove the button at the end of the sword to add extra pain.

Note to self: No survivors when I escape.

My head swam, and I could hardly think. That in itself was enough to drive me mad because that's practically all I do.

Wait a minute. When did my eyes close? Schist…

I opened my eyes, again cringing at the brief flare of light as my eyes adjusted to the light. Okay, now what do we have here? Stone room about eighteen hundred square feet. Several hundred fenced in cages with no occupants (besides mine, of course). No windows. Barely any light. I squinted, ignoring the sharp pain in the back of my head as I strained my neck forward. Yellow lines? Wait… Oh, these guys were good. Using an abandoned parking structure was clever. The only thing I had a problem with was the fact that, as far as I knew, there weren't any abandoned lots in all of London.

Well, that's just dandy.

I pushed that thought as far out of my mind as I quickly realized what these cages were being used for. A smuggling ring. And what were they smuggling? People.

I worked hastily at my bonds, pulling, pushing, and twisting, but no matter what

I did, I couldn't get out of them.

So, I can escape from a straitjacket, but I can't break a simply piece of rope? Gosh, I'm losing my touch.

"Here she is, Sir. They said she was the one you wanted."

I stiffened at the voice as I realized this wasn't the one I had heard at the flat, and my eyes darted to the door of my prison which was slowly being opened to reveal the, I assumed, buyers.

Two men.

The one that had spoken was just like the wall of meat I had faced at the docks except somewhat fairer looking. He had clearly defined features, blonde hair, tanned skin, and green eyes, but that was all ruined by a large scar running from the outer corner of his right eye down to the corner of his mouth. Still, he was an improvement when it came to Tall, Dark, and Meaty from before.

The man standing beside the one who had spoken looked like he belonged in _The Godfather_. He wore a fine black suit (Westwood by my guess), crisp and clean, with black wingtip shoes. His expression was that of a child in a candy store, and as he bent next to me, I instinctively lurched away, glaring daggers at my captors.

"Oh, she's a feisty one; isn't she?" he asked excitedly, leaning in to pry off my gag.

Ha. Big mistake for him. I instantly bit his finger, making sure to break skin before letting him pull away.

"Sir, are you alright-"

Mister Mafia simply raised his hand in dismissal as he leaned in closer to me, a skeptical look and amused smile on his face.

"Now, why'd you have to go on and do that, hmm?" he murmured, cupping my chin in his hand.

"Because you disgust me," I snarled. "Good enough?"

"Oh, you are a feisty one!" he said in approval, and he looked positively giddy as he shot me a childish grin. "Now I have a little proposition for you, my dear."

"I don't work with crooks."

"Who said I was a crook?"

"You're at a smuggling ring and overlooking the merchandise obviously chosen for you specifically. What else would you be?"

"Oh, you're smart too…" He smiled with approval, moving to untie my hands and feet. "This is going to be so much fun. Now just listen closely at what I'm about to offer you, hmm?"

"No harsh movements, Dearie," he scolded, waving _my_ pistol in the air. "Now, what would you say if I told you that I know where your parents are really?"

That had me. "You know-"

"Oh, I know everything about little Aurora, the famous thirteen year-old escapee from Parkhurst, the most torturous insane asylum in all the earth." He cupped my cheek in his hand, and when I tried to move away, he simply held up the pistol again. "You're quite intelligent for your age. I could use someone like you on my team. In return, I could help you with that little dilemma involving your parents."

He brushed the blood matted hair away from my face with a tenderness I knew could easily be taken away and replaced with brute force. His voice was mockingly soft and sympathetic as he cooed, "Such a pretty little thing. It'd be a real shame to see those chocolate brown eyes so lifeless."

Chocolate brown? What the bloody heck was wrong with this guy?

"So," he murmured, pulling his hand away to place the revolver at my temple. "What will it be?"

I set my jaw. "What do you think?"

"You would be rich," he tempted, letting the barrel of the revolver graze my chin. "The greatest crime lord in all of history- Well, second to me and my companion of course."

"I don't care about money," I growled defiantly, inwardly bracing myself for the man to shoot and end my life.

"You care about getting back at your parents, though." He smiled. "And I know exactly where they are. They're living in luxury while you're on the run from now the entire world. Is that really how you want this all to end? Do you want them to win?"

Something inside of me stirred angrily at his words, and I wanted so desperately to make a deal with that bloody fool, but the (somewhat) sane part of me told me it'd be a mistake.

"Think about it," he said after a bit of silence, turning away from me as he stood. He exited, telling his little friend to lock the door so I wouldn't escape, and, before long, I was alone.

I was on my feet immediately, trying to get a look at the lock on my cage. It was simple enough, just an old bike chain and lock. If the manuals I read were true, this would be a decently simple lock to pick.

I pat down myself, trying to see what I still had. Mister Mafia had my revolver, and my taser was missing.

I nearly shouted with joy as I found the two pieces of electrical cord that I had taken when on the docks. I peeled the rubber off with my nails and teeth until I simply had two wires perfect for lock picking. The lock was indeed simple, and I instantly realized it was almost too simple. That man truly gave me the impression of a crime lord. Why would he let me escape so easily?

I pushed the thought out of my mind, eyes darting about as I tried to figure out what level I was on. 4C and no elevator?

I stopped short as I neared the ramp going down. Wouldn't they expect me down there? If I went up, I could scurry down the wall or drainpipe. Or maybe they knew I would think this way and were actually up there…

Oh, screw this. I'm going down.

Sadly, I didn't realize how literally that statement would be taken. I could hardly see two feet in front of me as I staggered down the ramp. My head swam. My side ached and seared with pain. The adrenaline was wearing off, and I was finally feeling the pain from being choked and punched in the jaw, and everything simply hurt.

I don't remember even falling, but I do remember seeing sunlight as I was getting pulled to my feet slowly, the world spinning while I weakly protested the movement.

"Now, now, my dear, you've really hurt yourself; haven't you?" a familiar voice purred in my ear as unconsciousness finally claimed me.


	6. Dinner for Two with a Side of Torture

"Glad you could join me, Hon. Eat."

I opened my eyes at the voice, snarling angrily at the owner sitting opposite of me as he set a plate in front of me. His previously crisp suit was now soaked in blood, and I assumed it to be mine, but he didn't care, and neither did I. All I cared about was that a steak knife was sitting beside my plate with him in arm's reach.

"Now, now, play nice," he scolded lightly before I could even grab the knife. He nonchalantly took a bite of his own meal which appeared to be a T-bone steak with mashed potatoes and green beans. Mine was the same except for the vegetable which wasn't included.

We seemed to be in the parking structure still, but this looked more like an office. We were seated at the desk, using it as a table, with nobody else to be seen or heard in all of the rest of the area.

"What the bloody heck are you doing?" I demanded bitterly, unconsciously gripping the knife in my hand until I felt the barrel of (what used to be) my .38 caliber poking me in the knee.

"Giving a poor starving girl a good meal. Is that so bad?"

"Why do you want me to work with you?"

"Your mind is not something seen often," he answered simply around his food. "We're alike, you and I. We just want to have a little fun in the world. Go on ahead. Eat."

I took a bite of the steak, ignoring his curious look as I snapped, "I just want to find my parents. The rest of the world could collapse on itself for all I care."

"You ate."

"No kidding."

"You didn't think it was poisonous?"

"You're holding a gun, and you want me to work for you. Why would you poison my food?"

"Good. Good. You really are bright. How's your head now?"

"Why should you care?"

"I can't have my newest officer dying off; now can I?"

"I won't work for you. You may as well shoot me now."

"Now why don't you just tell me why you won't work with me?"

"I can find my parents without becoming an international criminal, and I can wipe out the fact I'm a fugitive. Then I can have a normal life."

"Oh, Honey, but normal people are so boring! Come with me, and we can rule the entire world with the flick of a finger."

"And you can kill me with the flick of your finger. Pull the trigger, and we'll be done here."

"Oh, what must I do to make you see what a fool you're being?" he sighed, setting aside the gun momentarily as he stood. "You've been cast aside, and yet you remain loyal to these bloody pigs. Why?"

With a flash, I had lunged across the table and grabbed my revolver. I grinned triumphantly upon finding it loaded, and I backed my kidnapper into the wall. "That's where you're wrong. I will never be loyal to them. I won't be loyal to you, and I won't be loyal to anyone. Now, if you don't mind, I've got parents to find. I bid you adieu."

He chuckled, pulling out his own pistol. "You really think I'm letting you go that easily?"

"I've taken down fifty of Parkhurst's bodyguards in one evening alone. You don't think I can take a little man in a suit?" I laughed.

"My dear, you don't know who you're crossing," he said giddily. "I wasn't lying when I said crime lord."

"Oh, what? Am I going to 'sleep with the fishes'?" I mocked, giving the line from the Godfather with the same voice effects in the movie just for good measure. "I'm fine with life and death. Though today, the Grim Reaper isn't lucky."

"You're right," he remarked thoughtfully. "He won't be. Look behind you."

Gosh darn it! Man, I have bad luck.

I felt a swift prick in the side of my neck, and I was down. Again.

"Hello there. Are you ready to join the land of the living again?"

"No," I answered bitterly, not bothering to even open my eyes. I knew who was standing in front of me. I also knew I was tied to a chair so I couldn't move.

"Come now, my dear," he cooed. "Think about this sensibly. You're not leaving me, and you're not dying. Why not just join me, hmm?"

I opened one of my eyes, the only increasing headache making it hard enough to just do that. I gave a sigh, shaking my head. "Listen. I know I'm supposedly insane, but your mind has got to be pretty messed up."

He simply grinned, placing his hands his pockets as he stared up at the ceiling. "Well, I certainly like to think so."

"Before, you said we were the same, you and I," I said reasonably after a bit of silence, making him look at me. I smirked dryly, making sure to tick him off with every word I said. "That's where you're wrong. We are nothing alike, you sick, twisted monstrosity. You said I didn't know who I was messing with. Well, I do. I'm toying with a sad, pathetic, weak, little son of a-"

My swear was cut off by his fist connecting with my stomach to knock the air out of my lungs and his hand wrapping my throat to prevent any air from being drawn in.

"I could end you right here," he snarled, and I finally had him.

I gave the best laugh I could muster with my very limited air supply. "But you- you won't. You have every- every reason to keep me alive."

His grip tightened around my windpipe, and he leaned in close to growl, "I also have every reason to kill you."

"Wrong," I chorused in a sing-song voice. "You only have one: so I don't escape and tell the- the world about you."

The world was spinning now, and I felt my chest tighten at the restriction of air. Gosh, this wasn't a good week for me...

"Remember my name, Girl," he whispered in my ear as his hand flew back to his pocket, and I gasped for breath. "James Moriarty. It will be the last thing you ever hear in your sad life, and it will undoubtedly be the first to bring utter terror into your existence."

I shouted after him as he turned and left my cage, "I've survived worse than this with no medical treatment! I have lived in utter agony every day of my existence! You will never strike fear! Never!"

He shot me a wicked grin as his hands lingered by a panel on the wall, and my cloudy mind just realized that my chair wasn't ordinary. It was electric.

"Moran, strap her in."

Mister Blonde-and-Green-Eyes was back, and I soon found my head locked into place along with every other limb.

My mind flew to every science paper I had read online, desperately trying to think if there was any way to survive electrocution. I had survived shock treatment- years worth, in fact, but this was nothing like that. In the last second, I tensed, tightening my muscles and praying to my Father above as the switch was flipped.


	7. A Shocking Escape

My body seared with pain, and I had bitten through my lip to keep from crying out. I didn't utter a word or sound, but tears flowed just the same. I could feel the bitter feel of them as they streamed down my cheeks despite how I tried to hold them back. I arched with pain, trying so desperately not to succumb to their wishes of brainwashing or death. I couldn't figure out which, what with the concussion and electricity coursing through my veins, but I knew either prospect wasn't a pleasing one.

I remember the machine turning off, my restraints being undone by that so called Moran, and I had instantly crumpled to the ground, unmoving but still seeing and thinking.

"How did she survive that?" he murmured, his hand resting on the back of my head. I couldn't do anything to protest it as he rolled me to my side, a hand waving in front of my face. "However she did it, Sir; it wasn't done well. I don't think she's in there anymore."

"I can retrain her," 'James Moriarty' dismissed simply. "Her memories may be gone, but that brilliant mind of hers is still there, and I can use that. Come."

With that, I watched my two torturers depart, leaving my cage door wide open. I smiled slightly to myself at that, and I had already formed my escape plan as I slipped into an exhaustion-induced sleep.

When I awoke next, I ignored the stinging protests of my limbs and throbbing agony of my mind as I numbly got to my feet, clutching at my head as if that would stop the pain.

I didn't say a word or make a single noise as I made my (hopefully quiet) way back down that ramp and to freedom. I caught a glimpse of the sky on my way, and I was extraordinarily glad to find it to be around midnight. No one out there would be walking.

I had just made it to floor 2C when I heard voices, but my ears were ringing so I couldn't properly make them out. I simply scurried into the first room I found (a storage closet) and hid myself the best I could.

I tried to still my breath, but I knew it wouldn't last long what with all the injuries I had sustained, and I was right. The second I had inhaled, the door opened. I instinctively moved further away, knowing who was there, but upon opening my eyes, I didn't see any weapon being pointed at me.

Moriarty was kneeling in front of me, concern clear in his features. I knew it was all an act, though. He thought my mind was wiped. He thought I wasn't in there any more. "Oh, you poor thing. Come here."

Deciding to play along, I crawled to him, inwardly disgusted as I was eased to my feet by him, and I was held close.

"You don't remember me, do you? That was quite a nasty fall you had there."

I shook my head for good measure.

"I'm your father, Dear," he said with fake-sympathy, and I tried not to shudder as I felt his chin rest on the top of my head. "And I promise I won't let anything harm you."

He was leading me back up to my prison, I realized, and I couldn't find a way for escape except that opened window. So I took it.

I pushed him away from me and ran to that spot, jumping onto the ledge. Breaking the glass, I turned to face him and shouted with a grin, "Not this time, Moriarty. I'll meet you another time, but right now, I've got bigger fish to fry."

With that, I stepped off.

I landed on an awning below, grateful that the cloth hadn't ripped at my force of it. I scrambled off of that hurriedly and broke off running in the direction of what I prayed was Baker Street, knowing it was just a matter of time until Moriarty was after me again.

I don't remember how long I ran, but daylight was just breaking as I staggered into the doorway of 221B and hammered away at the door.

"Oh, can't it wait, Lestrade-?" John Watson stopped short as he opened the door and found me instead. His expression instantly turned from anger and annoyance to a mixture of relief and concern. "Aurora, where have you been? Aurora? Aurora, what's happened?"

I didn't have time to answer him, because in that moment, I fell head first into unconsciousness.


	8. Recovery

"Oi, that smarts," I hissed, rubbing my head ruefully before turning onto my side and curling up beneath the covers. Then it dawned on me.

"What the bloody heck am I doing in a hospital?" I nearly shrieked, sitting upright as I pat myself down frantically. "I'm trying to avoid the Yard, not meet them for tea!"

"Easy, Aurora," Watson murmured, grabbing my shoulders and easing me back into the bed. "I have some connections and got you a private room. Nobody except us knows you're in here."

"Oh, gosh, is this morphine?" I demanded, flicking at the cord in my arm.

"Well, yes. It reduces the pain. -What are you doing?!"

I had ripped the tube out, tossing it aside along with the others. "No way. No bloody way. I am getting out of here-"

This time it was Mister Snappy-Pants that held me back, catching me by the waist, and with a simple movement had me laying back on the bed. "You aren't leaving."

"And why not?"

"Because every single one of your injuries was enough to put you in the ER, and you have multiple of them. You are remaining here and recovering until John deems you alright," he answered simply, holding me down so I couldn't move as Watson fixed the damage I had done before checking me over.

"What exactly happened to you?" the Doc questioned, helping me sit up before fingering the back of my head where the revolver had connected with my skull. I winced at the contact, but, since it didn't hurt as much as before, I figured it to have been stitched.

I sighed. "Would you like the short answer or the long answer?"

Watson looked at me curiously. "The short answer?"

"Hell. It was hell, Doc," I muttered, moving to stretch, only to hiss in pain. "Bad idea. Bad idea. Laying down now."

"Yes, yes, skipping to the part where you're kidnapped. Did you see who did it?" Holmes questioned, tossing me Steve's skull to play with much to my delight.

"No," I shook my head, fiddling with the skull. "But they're smugglers- People smugglers. I was specially 'ordered' by two people, Moriarty and Moran."

"Moriarty?" Watson questioned, obviously concerned and confused. He turned to the detective who was now pacing. "Sherlock, what's the matter?"

"Moriarty. Are you certain it was Moriarty?"

I nodded. "He said he was some sort of crime lord."

He was at my bedside immediately, an intense anger and determination showing in his eyes. "You spoke with him?"

"Yes. He kept trying to buy me off so I'd work for him. He wouldn't give up, and he eventually took to shock treatment."

I laughed slightly. "Big surprise for him when he found out I had all my memories after he put me to the chair. He was trying to raise me as his own! Can you believe that?"

The detective went back to his pacing while the doctor leaned in close to me. "Doc? What are you doing-?"

I let out a yelp as I found myself wrapped in his arms and hugged close, his chin resting on the top of my head. "Oh, you poor thing. Do you need anything? Something to eat? Drink? Anything to read? I'll get you anything at all."

"I could use my personal space," I offered sheepishly. "You're kind of crushing me."

"Sorry. So sorry," he apologized instantly, easing me back down and pulling the covers up to my chin so I was all warm and snug. He took Steve's skull, setting it on my bedside table. "But do you need anything? You've been out for a good four days and missing for three; you ought to be starving after that hell of a week."

I curled up on my good side so I faced him, burying my face in the pillow. I yawned softly, pulling the blankets tighter around me. "Could you turn the lights down a bit?"

I smiled contently as the lights dimmed a bit, and I burrowed deeper into the mattress while closing my eyes. "G'night."

"Goodnight, Kid."

I woke to the detective's voice. "Aurora, I need you to open your eyes."

I pushed away the hand shaking my shoulder, moaning, "Five more minutes..."

"Where were you taken?"

"Some abandoned parking structure... Now go 'way."

"And you walked back from there?"

"More like limped."

"How many floors did the building have?"

"About six. I was on 4C."

"The nearest parking lot matching your description is nearly three cities away. How did you survive making it back here?"

"Determination and adrenaline. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"No. Not yet. When you spoke to Moriarty, what did he try to bribe you with?"

I yawned, finally deciding to open my eyes. "Wealth. Knowledge of my parents. A good life."

"And you turned him down?"

I nodded tiredly. "I don't work with criminals. Say, where's Doctor Watson?"

"Right here," he called, entering the small room backwards with two trays of food carefully balanced. "Sherlock, I thought I told you to let her rest."

"You did. I just didn't listen."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to."

I ignored their argument, taking my tray and diving right in. It felt good to eat without a gun pointed at me.

"So..." Watson perched on the end of my bed. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

I thought about it for a bit. "Well, the hospital could use a new chef. Chicken is dry. Carrots are near rotten. Mashed potatoes aren't ground properly-"

"Not that," he scolded lightly. "You know what I mean."

I stopped mid bite, swallowing and rubbing my jaw thoughtfully. "No, I'm afraid I don't."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "You, a twelve year-old girl, were just kidnapped, beaten, and tortured, and you don't have anything to talk about?"

"Good. Now you're getting it!" I grinned, moving back to my meal.

"Listen. It's normal to feel depressed or even hide away the emotions-"

"Doc," I interrupted with my best smile. "I'm fine. Really. What's done is done. Besides, I went through worse at Parkhurst!"

He seemed doubtful, but he didn't push me further, merely patting my leg lightly as he said, "Alright, but if you ever need to talk, even if you're just having a bad day, I'm here."

"Can do," I promised, picking up a chicken leg and inspecting it thoroughly before taking a bite and swallowing. "Seriously though, the chef could use some work."

"You could be a food critic."

"Free food? Heck yeah I could."

"That was what Mycroft dreamed of being when he was a boy. Speaking of..." Holmes smirked, stopping his pacing as his phone buzzed. He flipped it open and exited the room with a wave. "Brother, Dear, I'd like to cash in on a favor..."

"How are you feeling?" Doc asked, breaking the silence we had been dwelling in for the past few minutes.

"Numb." I gestured to the morphine still being injected into my system. "And stiff."

"Well, the stitches are going to take some time," he answered softly, picking at his own food. "Are you sure there's no pain? No headache? Dizziness?"

"I'm fine, Doc. If anything hurts abnormally, I'll tell ya."

"Hurts abnormally?"

I shook my head ruefully. "My very existence hurts."

"Don't say that!"

"Listen, Doc, it's something medicine can't fix," I answered simply, finishing off my food and letting him take my plate. "It's like my mind can't handle being in my tiny skull. It just feels like it's pushing at the edges of my head, trying to break free and be used to its full potential. That's why I would entertain it by escaping my cell and breaking into the headmaster's office to learn facts that could be useful one day."

"So you're bored?"

I nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it's more like I feel like jumping off a cliff just to feel the adrenaline and prove I can survive again."

"Oh... Wait- Again?!"

"Parkhurst is made to keep people trapped inside, right? Well, they have a security system, and then they have the back up factor that the place is like seven miles from the surface of the ocean water. Have you ever gone bungee jumping? It's like that except you have a much better chance of dying."

I let out a yawn despite myself, and the good doctor was soon turning down the lights again and tucking me in as if I was just a kid.

"Get some rest," he advised softly, fluffing my pillow despite my protest. "You should be able to get off the morphine soon, but I'm going to have to see those stitches again to make sure you're healing properly..."

I was asleep before I could answer.


	9. The Show of the Century

"Sherlock, that's insane!"

"It's the only way I can get into Parkhurst and search for those files, John."

"The poor thing's ill as it is! I won't let you!"

"John, she doesn't even exist according to Mycroft, and I have to get in there and find that information."

I pried open an eye, finding Mister Snappy-Pants and the Doc arguing in the corner. Well, Watson was arguing. Holmes was standing as still as a wall, accepting everything and giving his input calmly.

I groaned slightly as I attempted to sit up, and Watson was instantly by my side, propping me up against a few pillows as I rubbed the side of my head and murmured, "Let me guess. I'm going back to Parkhurst."

"You're not going anywhere," Watson insisted, clasping his hand in mine reassuringly despite my not needing the assurance.

"John, it isn't up to you," Holmes interjected, still calm and placid as usual.

"I won't let you-"

I cracked a grin, prying my hand away and laying it on the doctor's arm. "It's alright, Doc. It's about time I visit the headmaster and pay my respects."

"Aurora, are you sure? You don't have to-"

"Relax, Doc. Hey, Snappy-Pants, pass me my clothes, will ya?" I caught them, waving the two out of my room so I could change out of that hospital gown I was currently wearing. I waited for the door to close before changing, pulling on my blood stained purple t-shirt and blue (well, now red) jeans. I stretched, trying to get rid of the stiff feeling in my limbs before fingered the stitching on my side until I was content that it wouldn't be tearing open any time soon.

I moved to the window and opened it, staring at the rooftops from my fourth story point of view.

"Hey, Doc!" I called before scrambling out the window so I was on the other side and on that precarious ledge. I grinned as I found Holmes and Watson opening the door, the good doctor staring at me with a mixture of fear and shock while Holmes simply smiled.

"Aurora, what are you doing? Do you have a death wish?" Watson demanded with a good amount of fear.

I gently kicked the doctor away as he moved to pull me back in. "We gotta make it believable that you caught me, don't we?"

"You devil," Holmes murmured with approval just as I jumped backwards, barely making my landing on the rooftop next door.

"Catch me if you can!" I taunted in the most cynical voice I could muster while I broke off running, jumping from roof to roof as that adrenaline came pumping again.

I made sure to make the chase noticeable, and I even dove through open second-story windows and ran through people's homes. I must admit it was rather fun.

I could hear the detective and doctor close behind me as I scrambled out of a window on the opposite side of the building and moved to leap outside to the next rooftop. I made no such jump. On the last second, I felt an arm snake around me, pulling me back into the flat I had just tried to escape from.

I made sure to put up a futile fight while I found myself being restrained by the detective. He pulled my arm behind my back, holding it tightly while placing his other hand on the crook of my neck. I futilely struggled and was soon snarling at him. "Get away! You've no idea what I can do! I'll kill you! I'll kill you all! I'll escape again!"

I shouted even louder upon finding the paparazzi swarming the entrance of the building. Watson simply pushed through them, making way for us. He put a good act, but I could still see he hated putting me back in Parkhurst.

I was placed in cuffs, and I soon found myself being forced into a Scotland Yard issued car. I shot the detective inspector sitting beside me a wicked grin as I held my handcuffs up to his face. "See these?"

Within seconds, I was free and doing a barrel roll out of the moving car and into lines of busy traffic. I threw the cuffs at him as he chased after me through the streets. It eventually came to the point of my jumping from car roof to roof (once again, I admit this was rather enjoyable).

"Come on, Inspector!" I taunted maniacally as I stood proudly on the roof of a moving cab. "Can't catch a little girl?"

Then something happened that I should've known was coming.

Time seemed to slow down. I saw Inspector Lestrade shout out in surprise, and I turned my head just in time to see another officer whip out a pistol and point it straight at me.

I felt the bullet rip through my shoulder before I could think of moving. The blunt force of the shot was enough to knock me off my feet, but I had just enough time to certify that I wouldn't land in the middle of traffic, but the alternative wasn't much better.

My mind was going blank, and I figured that my head connecting with the sidewalk didn't help. I was lying in a pool of my own blood, my shoulder coursing with agony and my head simply feeling as if it were gone.

I coughed once, blood sputtering out of my mouth as I simply lay there, a crowd of spectators gathering to watch me die. Lovely.

"Damn it, Anderson! You're going to kill the most brilliant mind this world has ever seen!"

I soon felt my head laying on something soft, and I was staring up at the two people I had become rather well acquainted with. My head was resting in Holmes's lap, and he was holding my face in his hands while Watson knelt at my left side, ascertaining my condition.

"Look at me, Aurora. Aurora, stay awake. Stay with me," the good doctor ordered frantically, pressing his hands on my shoulder. He instantly apologized as I finally let out a true cry of pain, and tears fell at long last.

"Doc?"

"We're here. We're here. You're going to be alright. Just hang in there, alright?" he said firmly before calling over his shoulder, "Where are the medics?!"

I clutched his shirt in my hand as another cry escaped my lips, and I made sure to get in one last thing before the ambulance came.

"D-Doc?" I choked out desperately, and I was a mess as I nearly whimpered, "I- I think- I'm having a bad day."

"Don't you dare give up on me! Aurora, look at me!" he demanded, but I was already gone.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: **I would just like to thank you all for your lovely feedback on this story. I honestly hadn't expected such nice remarks about it, and I am extremely grateful for all of the reviews/follows/favorites; they mean the world. If I don't update as often, I do apologize, but I am working on several other stories at the moment, and internet access becomes rather shoddy the hotter it gets where I live. Once again though, I thank you for all your support! :D **


	10. Guess Who's Back

At least, I thought I was.

I woke with a gasp, bolting upright to find myself in the medical sector of Parkhurst. Watson was at my bedside, sound asleep with a blanket thrown over his shoulders while Holmes simply stood at the window in the opposite side of the room.

His head snapped up at the sound I had made, and a small smile curled on his lips in what had to be the happiest I had ever seen him. "I see you're awake."

"Apparently," I murmured, wincing as I settled against the headboard. "How long was I out?"

"Twenty-three hours," he answered softly, the smile fading to concern while he made his slow way to my side. "John has been at your side, fussing and worrying, for twenty-three hours. You weren't expected to make it."

"I also wasn't expected to live past age four in Parkhurst. People are idiots," I remarked with a shrug, cringing as I moved my left shoulder, and I looked down to find my arm in a sling. "Schist, that hurts. Guess I won't be able to use this for a while."

"You need to relax," Holmes murmured with some disapproval and anxiety, his helping me get into a more comfortable position with my head resting against a few pillows. "You sustained quite some damage."

"Well, I can feel that much," I remarked dryly, rubbing at my head ruefully with my good hand. "I'm guessing massive head trauma and a concussion to last me for ages among the bullet wound in my arm."

He nodded, pulling my hand away and absentmindedly letting it rest in his own. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. The head injury you sustained from the kidnapping still hadn't healed when this happened, and those stitches were ripped open in your fall."

He looked down at his feet, sighing slightly as he moved to my cover my hand with his other as well. I was surprised to say the least. This was the most emotion I had seen out of him in, well, ever, and I was beyond confused. He didn't meet my eyes as he breathed, "I want to apologize for putting you through this, Aurora. It was never my intention to have this taken so far, and I never wanted you to be harmed. You are but a child-"

"Mister Holmes, I'm alright," I insisted in the most reassuring tone I could muster, cracking a grin. "It takes more than a little bullet and head trauma to stop me."

He smiled slightly, using his top hand to give me an old friend. "I brought 'Steve' along, figuring you'd be bored here while I work."

I smiled at first, twirling the skull on my one finger like the basketball players I had seen in the old videos in that head office when I was younger. The detective put a finger to his lips and nodded to the security cameras as I moved to speak, but my smile merely grew. "I hacked into the system ages ago, Mister Holmes. Those cameras are as useless as the Scotland Yard. Anyways, I was wondering what information you were looking for. Most likely proof that Parkhurst was bought to keep me, correct?"

He nodded, lowering his voice as the doctor stirred in his seat beside me. "I had my brother get me the blueprints of this place, and, by what I can figure, this island isn't just dirt and rock. There's a passage deep in the ground, and I suppose what we need will be there, but there was no entrance dictated in the blueprints-"

Holmes was cut off upon my finding a pair of arms wrapped around me so tightly that I thought I would break.

"Aurora, you're awake!"

"Doc, I'm fine. Really."

Watson merely hugged me closer, placing a kiss on the top of my head despite my squirming protests.

"Never do that again," he ordered desperately, and I thought I was home free to lie back down as he let me go to catch Steve's head that I had dropped. He tossed the (thankfully still intact) skull to its owner before pulling me back into his arms.

"God, I was so worried," he sighed in relief, letting me shift in his grasp so I was comfortable, and I eventually ended up with my head laying on his shoulder upon realizing that he wasn't letting go anytime soon. "I was so, so worried."

"Doc?" I piped up. "What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into me? You were nearly killed!"

"But does it really matter this much to you-?"

I stopped short upon finding his appalled expression.

"Of course it does!"

"But why? I mean, I'm not close to you, and you've no reason to be so concerned with me."

His mouth formed the letter o as he realized my predicament and question, and I watched with confusion while he pulled away, letting me settle back in my original position on the bed and pull the covers back over me.

"I assume you've found my blog when researching?"

I nodded, watching as he eased onto the bed beside me and setting his open laptop in his lap so I could see the screen.

"There. Read my latest entries," he prodded, a gentle smile spreading on his lips as he scrolled slowly through each one. "This one's from about two weeks ago when we first met. Read a few lines."

'She's so tough, brilliant, and dreadfully erratic. She's been through so much at such a young age. To be frank, I want nothing more than to pull the poor thing in for a hug and never let go.'

He scrolled to the next one, watching me with a sad but fond smile.

'She's been missing for nearly three days now, and I know Sherlock's getting worried. He had told me she left on her own free will and would return when she was ready, but even I could tell that he didn't believe that. He was nervous the past days, anxiously playing at his violin or sinking into a foul mood and not speaking, or even moving, for hours. He was worried, and I was too.'

"Last one," Watson promised, and he showed me one of his last entries.

'I was overjoyed to have her back, but she was barely conscious for a day when she went out with her plan and ended up becoming injured even more so than before. I was desperate to keep her alive, and when she finally let tears fall, I broke. That little girl had already squirmed her way into my heart, and I barely even knew her.'

"You mean a lot to me, Aurora, so never even think you don't," Watson insisted with a smile, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and giving me a little squeeze. "I'd like to think us friends, but if you need some time to think-"

I grinned up at him. "No need. It sounds like a bloody marvelous idea."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he beamed, pulling me even closer before releasing me and hopping off the bed to put away his laptop. "Oh, I took the liberty of washing your clothes. We really need to take you shopping, to get you some new clothes, I mean."

"While you continue to discuss whatever you're talking about," Holmes waved off in dismissal, shrugging on his coat as he left. "I shall be searching the headmaster's office. Farewell. Get some rest, Aurora."

I fiddled with my fingers nervously when he was gone, ducking my head so my "friend" couldn't see my face. Gosh, that sounds peculiar. _I_ have a friend.

Well, anything's possible.

"Hey, Doc?" I piped up softly, watching as he turned to face me, his face showing concern and care.

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Remember when I was shot by that Anderson fellow..."

"How could I forget?!"

"Well, I told you something." I squirmed restlessly, trying to get comfortable and ending up with my pillow in my arms and sitting up. "Before I fell unconscious, I mean. About having a bad day..."

He nodded in understanding and pulled up a chair. "Do you still want to talk?"

I nodded, chewing on my lip. "I just- I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

I rested my chin atop the pillow and thought carefully about my answer. "I- I suppose I should elaborate. I guess, well, I don't feel."

"You don't feel?"

"I've no feeling," I murmured. "No love. No pain. No sorrow. No anxiety. Not even happiness. Simply boredom, anxiety, and annoyance."

"But you've smiled before."

"Doc, I can't explain it. It's like all that is trapped in my chest, and the only thing I feel is a dull throb. I can't place it, and I just don't know, and I really hate not knowing!"

"Easy, easy," he soothed, getting to his feet and wrapping me up in his arms. "It's alright, Aurora. This is normal. You've been through so much, and your emotions are jumbled. This is extremely common."

"But they're always like this," I protested, my voice muffled as I hid my face in his sweater without second thought. "I don't know what's going on, and it's driving me mad."

"You are everything but mad. Now look at me. What do you think when you see me?"

"Doc, what-"

"Come on, Aurora," he prodded. "Tell me. Don't observe; tell me what you think of my personality."

"Kind. Generous. Caring. Protective. Loving-"

He cut me off with a smile and a soft laugh. "Well, I must say I'm honored, but answer me this. Why do you think I care about you?"

"I don't know."

Watson gave me a wider smile, pressing his lips to the top of my head. "Where to begin...? You deserve the sympathy of every being in the world, yet you don't care what people think of you. You're strong, independent, and willing to do anything to prevail in the end. You're intelligent, sweet, and blimey adorable-"

I stopped him there, raising my hand and giving him a look. "Sweet and adorable? Do you even know me?"

"I know what you can be, and you are definitely one of the cutest little things I've ever seen."

"Isn't cute usually reserved for kids younger than twelve? Oh yeah, by the by, I'm not little."

"Oh face it; you're tiny, and to answer your question: No. You're downright adorable, and anybody would adopt you in a flash. Does that make you feel any better?"

"...No."

"Well, it's not a lie."

"That's just creepy." I shuddered. "And terrifying. I am not getting adopted."

"What? You think you're going to live your life alone with no one? Not happening."

"But I like solitude."

"I won't let you."

"You won't know where I live."

"Yes I will because as soon as this ordeal is over, I'm visiting you, and you're visiting Baker Street. Don't even think about objecting because it's happening either way, and I have to make sure whatever family you end up in is taking care of you properly."

"In that case," I drawled out for emphasis, "when am I _visiting_?"

"Just as soon as Sherlock finds out what he needs," Watson promised, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. "Until then, you can get as much rest as you want."

"Which shall be little to none."

"Why?"

"Because I hear the headmaster coming. I'd leave if I were you."

"Hello, my dear," a demonic voice cooed just as the doctor left, and I soon found myself staring into the face of Number Two on my Creeper List (Number One's being Moriarty).

"Jackson Gregor Veneel. How's hell been?" I answered absentmindedly.

"Quite fantastic actually. That was quite a stunt you pulled. Getting shot, I must say, was not your best plan."

I smirked. "You'll see. I'll finally be able to expose you for the sick being you really are after this week. You-are-going-down."

"A bit confident, are we? You really overestimate yourself."

I laughed, unconsciously clenching my fist. "That may be so. We'll just have to wait and see, now won't we?"

"Now, now, lower your arm, Aurora. I can get my guards in here within a second."

"And I can snap your neck in seconds," I threatened with my best grin. "Would you care to test out these theories? Because I would simply love to."

I cut off my threat at hearing shouts coming from outside the door, and I was about to burst out of my bed upon placing the doctor's voice as one of them when I felt Veneel's hand wrap around my throat and force me back down.

With only one arm actually useable, I can't say I put up much of a fight. I was left handed, and that was the broken arm.

"Not so fast," he growled in my ear, and I soon found myself strapped down to the bed. I remembered this all too well, and I began pushing and pulling with all of my strength as I saw him pull out that syringe I had come to associate with hell.

"You won't see daylight again so long as I live," Veneel promised, using his free hand to tilt my head back while he dangled that vial of green venom in front of my face. "Sweet dreams."

I was out.


	11. My Own Personal Nightmare

Why was everything so dark? Wait a minute... I should know the answer to this question. Something about hell? Dang it! Why couldn't I remember?

I sat up with a daze, finding myself surrounded in darkness to the point where I could hardly even see my hand in front of my face. I got to my feet, looking down at my arm in confusion. I knew somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind that it was supposed to be broken, but it wasn't. What the heck was going on?

Something flashed in my mind- maybe a memory- but I fell to my knees at this, and when I tried to remember what I had seen, my mind protested the action and nearly shut down.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming as my head felt ready to implode. I staggered to my feet again, eyes darting for any sign of life.

What the bloody heck was going on? I hated not knowing, and I was surrounded by the unknown.

I was just about to sit down again upon feeling the pounding in my head grow in strength when I heard a voice. It was soft and gentle, but it only made the pain worse, and I was forced to my hands and knees, clutching at my head in agony while I struggled to get to my feet again.

"Aurora? Aurora, wake up."

I tried to shut out the voice, simply sick and tired of everything trying to hurt or kill me. I heard another voice speak up, but it wasn't talking to me.

"John, she doesn't seem to wish it."

John? I knew that name.

...Didn't I?

"But she has to, Sherlock!"

Sherlock? I knew that one too! Oh, never mind. It's gone again.

"John" spoke up again, and he seemed to be begging. "Aurora, come on. Open your eyes. Nothing can hurt you. I promise."

That got my attention. No more pain? Well, that sounded promising. One problem though. My eyes were already open. How the heck was I supposed to wake up?

"Oh, thank God. Come on, Aurora. It's just a little bit more."

Was I actually waking up? Why was everything still so dark then?

"Aurora, focus on my voice. It's Doctor John Watson. Remember me?"

The name finally registered in my mind, and I had a face to place it with. I felt different at that, like half my body was active and ready to work while the other half was numb to the core.

"Fascinating. She seems to respond well to the memories. Aurora, do you remember me? Sherlock Holmes?"

It was like a dam had broken, and my mind felt like it was on overdrive as I fell forward, straight out of my mind and into another world.

I woke entrapped in two pairs of arms and panting heavily, just trying to catch my breath. Everything came back to me. I remembered what had happened, the people, Veneel, and that blasted poison. I wanted to tell Holmes and Watson what happened, but they seemed to already know.

"The- The vial-" I stammered, trying to make my voice work as I leaned into the owner of one pair of arms for support. "Shows greatest fear-"

"We know, Aurora."

I looked up at the voice, finding myself practically curled up in the consulting detective's arms. I choked out an apology and started to move away, but he didn't say anything to protest.

"Your greatest fear is the unknown... Isn't it?" he asked in a thoughtful tone as he stared out the window opposite him. "When you were injected, I could hear your screams even from the other side of the island. You had us, well John, worried."

"Is Doc alright...?"

"I'm fine, Aurora," piped up a familiar voice behind me. "I was just getting into an argument with Lestrade. He said I couldn't stay, and, well, we may have gotten into a bit of a row, and I also may have accidentally given him a black eye. No matter."

I smiled a bit, absentmindedly picking at the sling around my left arm. "Details... Details."

"How are you feeling, Aurora?" Watson murmured, stroking my hair once or twice. "You were really out of it. You didn't want to wake up."

I yawned, nuzzling the detective's coat as I leaned into him tiredly. "Well, it hurt..."

"Oh, I know it did," Watson murmured sympathetically, pressing a rather unexpected kiss to the back of my head before pulling away. "Now come on. Any nausea?"

I shook my head, trying not to completely drift off. "Just tired. What'd you find out, Snappy-Pants?"

Holmes smirked dryly at the name but never protested it, although his expression quickly hardened into that stone facade for which he was known. "I suppose 'nothing' would be the proper answer. I have yet to find the entrance to this passage we seek."

"Where've you looked?"

I was dozing off now, and I was barely aware that I was being tucked beneath the covers of the bed as my eyes unconsciously closed despite my struggles to stay awake.

"The headmaster's office and kitchen. Now rest, Aurora. You've had quite the traumatic experience."

I nodded numbly, curling up underneath all the blankets piled on top of me. My voice was wrought with exhaustion and hardly sounded like my own while I mumbled, "S'just me or does my luck only get worse?"

"Your luck will improve when all of this is over. I promise," Watson guaranteed, patting my shoulder gently. "Now go on and get some sleep. I'm not leaving your side."

"Nor am I," added Holmes, but he was still lost in thought as I finally drifted.


	12. The Doctor's a Nurturer in Nature

I sat up with a grin, easily ignoring the protests of every limb in my body. "Hey, you two! Wake up!"

I couldn't help but laugh as my dear companions startled awake at my words, causing the doctor to fall backwards out of his chair while pulling the detective down with him.

"What is it, Aurora?" Holmes nearly groaned from his place sprawled out on the floor whereas Watson merely got up with a stifled grunt before coming to my side with a tired "Morning."

"Well, sorry to disturb your sleep, Sleeping Beauty, but I think I know where you need to look."

"Care to explain how you discerned this in your sleep?"

"M'kay. So when I sleep, my mind usually doesn't let my subconscious control anything so it's like I'm awake, except everything I do when sleeping, I don't intend to do. Yeah, I'm a natural oddity. ...Anyways, as I was saying, my mind was still unconsciously working on figuring out where that passageway was when I 'remembered' something."

"Still doubting the possibility of that, but I'm coming to see that you are not usually restrained by the impossible," Snappy-Pants grumbled in annoyance before saying more clearly and meeting my eyes, "Care to elaborate on what you deemed so important?"

"You see, Mister Holmes, when I was younger, about four years-old, I was kept in cell number 376A. Well, I remember always tapping at the cell floor. You want to know why?"

Snappy-Pants cracked a grin. "It sounded hollow."

"That it did! I noticed the stone was settled in different ways, but the center of the flooring was more worn and cracked. Doc, would you care to venture a guess?"

"Whenever you were taken from the cell, most likely for meals or something of the sort, they would remove the tiling in some way and enter the passageway."

"Exactly! And you want to know what makes it even more clear that that's where the tunnel is? Just as soon as I began to poke around, I was moved to a different cell. It's perfect!"

"Besides the point where you've been tortured beyond compare in the past twelve years of your life," Holmes added absentmindedly, but I merely scoffed.

"Minute details. Now go on, Snappy-Pants. Head on to your investigation while I take a nap. Good? Good."

"I am not continuing this investigation without my blogger or client," Holmes answered with dismissal. "The last time you were alone, you were put through quite literally your worst nightmare."

"Well then, I'll just have to come with you; now won't I?"

I was out of the bed and ushering them out before they could protest it, and within a strenuous two and a half minutes, I was dressed and attempting to replace my sling and bandages.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow..." I sputtered, carefully slipping my sling back on around my neck and setting that sorry excuse for a left arm into it as I made my way to Watson's bag, stealing the gauze and moving to the small bathroom mirror as I tentatively pried off the bandages covering most of my head. I ignored the pale, horrific creature staring back at me in the mirror as I leaned in close, turning my head and lifting my hair so I could see the awful gash I knew existed from that fall.

"Oi. Well, I won't win any beauty pageants anytime soon."

The slice ran from the base of my skull diagonally up towards my right ear and ending right at my temple. I immediately knew it was going to scar, but maybe if I parted my hair in a certain way, it could cover it... Meh, what do I care? It's a battle scar, and it symbolizes my triumph! ...and near death experience.

I decided against rewrapping the wound, tossing the gauze back into the medical bag before looking back up at the mirror.

I was never one to care for looks, and being locked up in an insane asylum certainly didn't make me care, but even I had to admit I looked terrible. Sure I was still somewhat in shape (After all, being a fugitive on the run does tend to put one in rather good form where muscles are concerned.), but I was a positive mess. Apparently you can get thinner than anorexic because somehow I managed to lose weight in spite of my being starved at Parkhurst. My skin clung to my bones as if there were no muscle beneath it, and I somehow was even paler than before. My eyes were sunk deep into their sockets with heavy rings of purple beneath them. My cheeks and complexion were shallow. My obsidian black hair was tousled and mussed. The bruising at the base of my neck still hadn't faded away, nor had the gash in my side completely healed. Okay, if I'm going to be honest, I looked like I had been eaten by a freaking shark.

"Aurora?"

I gratefully ceased my examination upon hearing Watson's voice, and I painfully, and rather stiffly, made my way to the door.

"Don't forget. I'm technically a prisoner here so you gotta be utterly disgusted of me," I said nonchalantly, and I couldn't help but smile as Snappy-Pants grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and muttered, "I don't believe that should be too hard to fake."

Doc kept silent, trailing behind us as Holmes pushed me forward. He was careful not to harm me too much, but I didn't care. I was still looking at the big picture. All of this agony would be well worth it when I finally got to see my parents and the looks on their faces when their thrown out daughter turned up on their doorstep.

"Tell me if I'm harming you," Sherlock said in a low tone with a surprising amount of concern before schooling his features once again and staring at me disgust.

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried," I snarled, but I gave a wink as I turned away, inwardly laughing at the smirk curling on his lips.

"Oh, really? Would you care to vouch on that factor?"

"I would, but it wouldn't be much of a bet considering how your doctor would keel over in faint," I smirked, but I was honestly becoming concerned for the poor bloke. Watson was pale, and I could see his inward struggle to keep his composure.

"John, are you-"

"I'm alright, Sherlock," he cut off abruptly, and he gave a pitiful look, making me question if we should have left him behind.

Snappy-Pants and I bickered and taunted each other as we were walked through the asylum. We passed guard after guard, and I would grin at each of them as if I were walking down a velvet rug to my throne, taking bows and giving waves. "'Ello, boys! Did ya miss me?"

I grinned as I was forced into a chair in the cafeteria where only the superiors were supposed to dine. I balanced the chair on the hind two legs so I could prop my feet up on the table and lean back. My smile quickly turned to a disgusted glare as I saw that bloody detective inspector and his little watch dog come up to my table and sit down. I kicked back slightly and just quickly enough, bringing my feet down to the floor and making the sound of metal chair clashing with tile floor resonate throughout the room.

I leaned forward in my seat, growling at the idiot at the inspector's side. "You're that arse who shot me; now aren't you, Anderson?"

I didn't acknowledge his shocked and rather fearful look while I looked him up and down, my eyes catching the screen of the phone sticking out of his pocket. "I see that affair with Sally Donovan is going well. My, she must be something if she's still with you."

Mister Holmes reacted even before I did. With a flash, his hand was up, stopping the fist aimed for my jaw, and Snappy-Pants simply held it there, having a battle of wills with the professional dunce.

"Sherlock, let go," Anderson spat coldly, but my newest protector did no such thing.

"Even your low intellect must see the potential within her life," Holmes answered simply, his emotionless mask remaining just that, even as the 'low intellect' retorted, "She's spending the rest of her life in either the electric chair or the asylum. What potential is there in the insane?"

"She's twelve!" Doc piped up angrily while coming behind me, gently placing his hands on my shoulders protectively. "There is always hope."

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade finally got out of his seat, holding back Anderson from throwing a punch.

Yeesh. You make one comment, and you've got a full out brawl.

"You're only siding with him because she's a freak just like he is!"

It was then that I first experienced true surprise and shock (the non-electric kind). It was as if time had slowed down. Perhaps it stopped altogether- It could very well have.

I could only watch with utter disbelief as a strong right hook was thrown over my head, the fist connecting straight with Anderson's jaw and sending him sprawling back into the inspector.

I'm sure I was staring as the doctor stormed up to the forensics officer, picking him up by the collar of his shirt and forcing him into the wall with a rage I would have never expected to find in the kind, tender hearted doctor.

"You dare call Sherlock or that poor girl a freak again, and I swear you will regret it. She's troubled and hurt like no other, and she has every damn right to act out like this. So if you even so much as think of saying anything like that again, you had better run."

I didn't even pay attention to what Lestrade was saying as he and Mister Holmes forced Anderson out of the room. All I could focus on was the gentle hand running through my hair and spoiling me with comfort.

"Doc, the act..." I murmured, but I was silenced a shake of the head, and he knelt in front of me and palmed my cheek, making me briefly realize just how small I was despite my age.

"I know; I know," he whispered softly. "And I'm sorry for ruining the facade with Lestrade and Anderson, but look at me." He offered a small smile. "I'm an emotional, protective mess."

"You didn't have to do that..."

"Yes I did."

"No..."

"Aurora. Aurora, come now; look at me," he prodded, raising my chin with the tips of his fingers so I met his eyes. "I told you before I care about you. Nothing will change that, especially not a few idiotic insults. Now come here."

He stood, pulling me up into his arms for a small hug before easing me back into my seat and regaining his composure upon the others' reentering. He looked at Anderson coldly, and I immediately placed my manic mask back in place.

"My, my, my," I hummed with a rather pleased expression. "The doctor is a nurturer in nature after all."

"Sherlock informed me of your problem."

I raised a brow at the inspector. "And?"

"And we'll go through with the charade."

I smiled. "Splendid. Do get rid of Anderson though. I believe Doc's thinking about strangling him right now."

"Anderson, you heard the girl. Get out."

"Sir-!"

"That's an order."

Order? Oh, I like this.

Holmes smirked at my obvious pleasure but said nothing, letting me bask in my own glory.

"Now," Lestrade started once Anderson had left. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward with a small smile. "What do you need me to do?"

"You have access to the whole human-identification-base-thing, correct?" I questioned, happy that I was finally getting somewhere.

Upon receiving a nod in answer, I continued, absentmindedly picking at my sling, "Well, if Plan A doesn't work, I'm going to need permission to enter that system without restriction. I need to find my parents, and if Parkhurst doesn't have those files, that base is my only chance of finding them. Speaking of..."

I glanced up at Holmes. "I've got the Doc and DI with me. You're free to search."

He seemed somewhat doubtful, but it only showed in his eyes. "Are you certain you'll be alright?"

I waved him away with a yawn, suddenly feeling like I couldn't keep my eyes open. "Say, Doc, is it normal to be this tired?"

Snappy-Pants froze mid-step. "This wasn't a side effect of the venom?"

"I've never been like this before..."

"Aurora, I need you to look at me," Watson ordered with some confusion, holding my face in his hands and turning my head so my eyes met his. "Your pupils are dilated... Sherlock, go on. This isn't too much of a problem. Lestrade, would you mind turning the lights off for a moment and then turning them back on?"

He kept his eyes fixed on mine as Holmes and Lestrade did as he told them. His expression was merely concern as he murmured, "Slowed adjustment to light... Aurora, I need you to stay awake, alright?"

"But m'tired..." I was nodding off already, eyelids drooping, and voice slurring.

"It's just a side effect," Doc explained, gently tapping my cheek to keep me awake. "Your body's reacting against the poison and is trying to dispel it from your system. Come now; this is nothing to sleep over. You're stronger than this."

"I think we all know that, Doc," I muttered dryly, wiping my good hand across my eyes. "Now, can I get something to drink with a good amount of caffeine? My body's 'bout ready to shut down."


	13. Patience Leads to Results

"It's peculiar..." remarked the doctor sometime later as I scowled down at the fresh cup of coffee in front of me. I should probably explain why I was in such a mood, I suppose.

Well, to start, every muscle in my body protested movement, taking just that much more effort to move in my sluggish state. My left arm gave a sharp pain every time it even twitched. I was being forced to stay awake when I had no hope of doing so, and my mind was on overdrive. Worse? Watson still wanted to make conversation!

I grumbled answers from time to time, not paying attention to anything the Doc was saying.

"Aurora!"

I jumped awake at the shout, hitting my bad arm against the table by accident in the process. I grit my teeth, glaring up at the good doctor. "WHAT?!"

"As I was saying," he began again stubbornly. "It's peculiar how your body works. You should have just been fatigued a little at a time, but instead, you took it full blunt as to quicken the recovery process. It's remarkable, really."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm the wonder of the Medical World. Now pass me another coffee would ya?"

"Is she always like this, Doctor?"

"Always."

"And you haven't slapped her yet because...?"

"She has a name, and it's Aurora," I interrupted with a growl, downing the cup of coffee that the Doc had given me. "And if ya have such a problem with me, Detective Inspector, why are you helping?"

"Because, as Sherlock said, there's potential."

I yawned bitterly. "Well, ya aren't going to get much better than this. Can I get 'nother coffee over 'ere?"

"Anything to keep you awake," Watson nodded.

The rest of the day was rather dull. I was eventually led back to my little hospital/prison, my pretending to be insane on the way. Watson stayed with me the entire time, our having light conversations just to keep me awake.

"Aurora, I was wondering what you were going to do after you find your parents."

"Revenge."

"Elaborate?"

"I'm going to go there, show them their mistake, and then shoot their most expensive vase. Simple."

"Then what?"

I flashed the Doc a grin and gave a shrug. "I'll improvise. Say, do you think the inspector will be needing this anytime soon? Because I must say that this will be quite useful."

"...How did you get Lestrade's gun?"

"I pickpocket when I'm annoyed. Oh, here's your cellphone back. Karen Zell called a good fifty times in the past hour wondering where you've been. Dump her, I say."

"Aurora, you can't just go around pickpocketing people!"

"Why not? It's worked so far. ...Do you think the idiot that we call Anderson will need his badge back? Say, does this fellow even have a first name? It's not even on his badge..."

"...You're something else."

"I know; isn't it great?"

We spent a good amount of time in awkward silence, and this was only broken when Mister Holmes stormed in with a growl, undoing his scarf and tossing it aside along with his coat. "Think! How to do it? Think!"

"Sherlock, what's the matter?"

"Isn't it obvious, Doc? Snappy-Pants can't get into the cell."

"It's heavily guarded," he snapped (hence the name). "Every single cell in this place is filled with an insane, but that one is empty yet is guarded even more heavily."

I sat up, finally interested as I scrambled off my bed with the Doc's help. "Every other cell you say?"

"Every. Single. One!" He stopped, noticing my smile, and he did the same, his lips curling up into a fond smirk of approval. "Oh, you're good. Brilliant. Utterly brilliant. I can't say that about many people, but you... You're something else."

"Yes, we've established that," I added nonchalantly. "Now, I believe I have a cell to occupy."

Before long, I found myself being thrown inside High-Containment Cell 376A, straitjacket, chained ankles, and all.


	14. On My Way to Victory

Oh, it was just too good to be true! I was finally on my way to victory, to freedom, to vengeance! I finally felt pure and utter joy as I broke free of my straitjacket and moved to pick the lock on my shackles. I was giddy with excitement, and I knew that there was nothing anyone could do to break that smile. It felt like a dam had burst, and I could finally feel everything! It was as if my containment had locked away my happiness as well, but not anymore!

I tossed aside the chains once unlocked, being careful not to make too much noise in my stone prison. I got up, peeking through the small grate in the door to check that the guards were changing shifts.

I was quick and swift in my actions. Getting to my hands and knees, I checked every inch of that floor for an edge or crack I could use to grab hold of the trapdoor. Nothing. My smile faltered for a moment, my mind whirling for possible answers. Suddenly, it hit me.

I always heard a certain knocking when the officials gathered for a meeting. It wasn't Morse Code, but it was the same pattern repeated over and over again.

It was something like: - - - - - -

They would always repeat the sequence before. It's rather difficult to explain, but their knocking would be: Knock (Pause) Knock (Pause) Knock Knock (Pause) Knock (Pause) Knock Knock (Pause) Knock Knock Knock. ...If that makes any sense, which I doubt it does.

I tried the pattern on the center of the trap door beneath, and before I could react, I fell through the suddenly opened door and tumbled headfirst down a flight of stairs. My smile finally fading with that brutal landing, I groaned and carefully sat up. "I _so _did not need that."

My ears pricked up at a swift click and soon the room was mere darkness, trapdoor closed.

"And I did not need that either. Well that's just dandy. I don't suppose the lights here are voice activated? Lights on! ...Okay, didn't think so. Is it one of those clappers? ...Nope. Alrighty then, where is that bloody switch?"

I groped around for a bit, just trying to figure out where the heck that light was. I eventually found a small lamp, and, as I turned it on, I found enough files to cover all of France. I put my fists on my hips, nodding slightly in acknowledgement of the job I had ahead of me.

"Well, time to get to work."

I think my biggest mistake in those three hours I spent looking for information was my shouting for joy when I found the correct paperwork. File in hand, I ran up the stairway, pushed open the trapdoor and climbed out, only to be greeted by a cloth pressed to my nose. I inhaled something sweet, and before I could say the word "chloroform," I was out.

I woke tied to a chair back in that file room, but I wasn't gagged so I finally let out the string of curses that had built up inside.

"Condemn you to Oblivion! Rot in Hades! May the demons of Tartarus rip apart your flesh and show now mercy! I will make you experience nothing less than the tortures of the Seventh Ring of Hell! You will be crying out for mercy by the time I'm done with you, you sick, twisted, monstrosity of a human being-"

A stinging slap across the cheek cut my swears short, and I found myself staring directly into a pair of black eyes I had to loathe more than Parkhurst itself.

"You aren't escaping me this easily," Veneel growled, but I merely spat blood on his new shoes, which, might I add, made me feel particularly better about the situation.

"Escaping would imply that I am being confined here," I snarled, easily breaking my (oddly loose) bonds and kicking him in a place that I knew would hurt for quite a bit of time. "And it's rather obvious that I'm leaving now."

I snatched the file from where he had placed it on the floor before running back up that stairway and bursting out of my cell, screaming my head off for Mister Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, and Doctor Watson to follow me as I was chased through Parkhurst with a good twenty of Veneel's guard dogs (and men) right behind me.

Before long, I found myself back on that roof I had come to associate with freedom.

"What do we do now, Aurora?"

For once, I couldn't answer the Doc's question. I racked my mind for any possible solution, something akin to fear racing through veins. I had come so far! It couldn't end now. I was nearly there. I was so close!

I cast my companions a sheepish grin as the answer came to me. "I need all of you to jump. Right now."

The Doc grabbed my hand just before we launched ourselves off the roof of Parkhurst.

...And straight onto the soft cushion of trash on a passing garbage vessel. Not my best plan, I'll admit.

I groaned as I sat up, finally letting the effects of chloroform catch up to me as I slumped forward, straight into my Doc's waiting arms.

"Easy, Aurora, easy," he soothed, easing me back into an upright position and wrapping his arm around my shoulders so I wouldn't fall again. I didn't protest it, too physically exhausted to care. I tossed the detective my file before relaxing and letting the Doc do all the work to keep me from falling over.

"You couldn't find a softer- and better smelling- escape route?" spoke a voice that made me want to punch something.

"It was either staying behind in Parkhurst with the clinically insane or a garbage boat. What do you want me to say?" I spat bitterly, giving Anderson my best glare as the Doc pulled me nice and close in that protective manner he was now known for.

"Relax, Aurora, don't aggravate any of your injuries," he murmured before stopping in surprise. "...What happened to your sling?"

"I dunno. Maybe Veneel's got it?" I slurred tiredly, resting my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes. "Tell me when we get back to Baker Street, huh? I need a nap..."

I woke naturally, and I found myself curled up in a bed beneath several layers of blankets. I got up grudgingly, tiredly tossing a blanket around my shoulders as I trudged out of the room and straight into the good doctor.

I stammered an apology, but Watson had none of it, wrapping an arm around me and guiding me to sit down. He threw questions at me, wanting to know I felt. I would wave him away, saying I was fine despite a dull throb in my skull.

"Hungry?" he questioned, a smile appearing on his lips at my eager nod.

"Go on then. You need your energy," he ordered gently, setting a plate of kippers and eggs in front of me before giving my hair a ruffle as I dove straight in.

"So, how long do you think it'd take to get me free of all fugitive charges?"

"Oh, no," Watson immediately protested. "You're taking the day off today. You need to rest."

"Doc, you do realize that the Scotland Yard doesn't feel that way, right? As far as the others know, I'm still a criminal in the eyes of the law, and I do not feel like going to prison."

"Lestrade won't let that happen," Holmes spoke up, and I turned, finding him sprawled out on the couch haphazardly and absentmindedly watching the television set. "Well, I won't let him anyways. -No, you idiot! If you walk into a dark alley, what sense is there in asking if someone's there when you distinctly hear voices!"

"Why did I ever get him on that Telly?" Doc muttered ruefully as he sat beside me, setting his piece of toast on my plate upon seeing mine finished. "My, you're hungry. Do you want seconds?"

"Please?"

"Who could say no to those puppy dog eyes?"

I simply gaped at that remark, barely responding as Watson ran his hand through my hair once while taking my plate.

"Puppy dog eyes?" I asked with disgust upon finding my voice, but Doc only laughed.

"Well, yeah. Have you seen yourself when you want something? Simply adorable."

"Adorable?! I resent that!

"Too bad. It's true, and haven't we already established this?"

After eating, I was forced to bed rest. No matter what, the Doc was at my bedside, sitting with his feet propped up on the bed so he could make sure I didn't escape his eyesight and "go off and break another limb" or so he said. I learned that it was his bed that I had resided in last night through this morning, and apparently I was going to remain there by orders of the Doc who said something along the lines of, "Oh, no. No walking. No running. No moving. You are going to rest, rest, and rest, until you are completely healed and meet my approval."

Well, I suppose I should skip the boring details and go straight to the near-death experience. Yes, there was _another_.


	15. Mister Holmes and Someone Higher

"WHY EXACTLY IS YOUR BROTHER WORKING IN A BLOODY ABANDONED FACTORY?!" I screamed at the detective a couple days or so later, jumping onto a table and latching onto the ceiling support beams as I stared down at the giant, rabid, black mastiff trying to bite my foot off. "Kill it!"

"Hang on, Aurora."

"What else am I going to do, Doc? Let go? 'Cause that's a bloody marvelous idea! Oh, schist."

I flinched as I heard the rafter I was clutching start to crumble. "Doc!"

"Here boy! Come on! Look at me! Fresh meat!" Watson tried to distract it so Holmes could get to me, but I can't say it was going well.

"Why does everything want to kill me?" I whimpered, readjusting my hold on the cracking wood.

"You tend to have that effect on people."

"Would you just shut up, Holmes?!"

"And I'm the snappy one?"

"If I get out of this alive, I will- Oh, good gracious."

I let out a yelp as the rafter broke, and I fell straight down in front of the dog. I couldn't do anything except brace myself for death as that thing leapt towards me.

"Aurora? Aurora, look at me. You're okay. It's dead. Come on. It's alright."

I opened my eyes, indeed finding myself in one piece. The Doc was kneeling in front of me, a relieved smile on his lips as he held my hands in his.

"There you are. You alright?"

I looked up, nodding numbly. I took his offered hand up, finding Holmes gone and a dead mastiff at my feet with a bullet lodged in its head.

"Wait. Doc, we don't have our guns... Who shot it?"

"She could have been killed!"

The Doc and I turned to find Sherlock Holmes glaring profusely at a man standing in front of him, passive, as the good detective screamed.

"Yet she wasn't, Sherlock. Miss Aurora, I must say you surprised me. You lasted much longer than I would have expected from someone of your... strengths."

Oh, big mistake.

"And you want to know my strengths, huh?" I growled, pushing aside the doctor and storming straight up to that idiot who had immediately gotten on my bad side. I stood on my tiptoes in a futile attempt to get eye level with him. "Mycroft Holmes is it? Well, Mister British Government, my strengths happen to involve escaping from inescapable asylums, breaking free from a human smuggling ring, escaping crime lords, and managing to survive the unsurvivable. What can you say? That you rule the government that is currently trying a twelve year-old girl as both a fugitive and a terrorist? My, I wonder who holds the better record here. Care to venture a guess?"

Mycroft merely smiled. "I can have you killed within seconds."

"And as I told Headmaster Veneel, I can snap a neck within seconds. Come on; let's see who's better."

"You would not due to the fact that _you_ need _me_."

"Confident are we?" I laughed. "Actually, I don't need you. I merely wish to use the easy way out. If I so desired, I could hack the main network, wipe my name from every file in the world, and change my identity completely. Then, if I wished, I could hijack an international jet and fly myself to America. As you can clearly see, I don't need you at all."

"You're the exact opposite of that mastiff. You are all bark and no bite."

"Oh, I've got bite-"

Before I could raise my fist, the Doc was holding my arms behind my back, and Snappy-Pants had a hand over my mouth.

"Easy there, Aurora. It's alright. Calm down," Watson murmured, rubbing my previously broken arm gently as he released me. "It's going to be fine. Hold your temper..."

"I wasn't going to hurt him! ...Much," I whined as the Doc, detective, and I were led down the halls and to Mycroft's (apparently temporary) office.

To be honest, I didn't pay attention to the talk going on between the men. I merely plopped down on the closest sofa, closing my eyes and turning on my side to get comfortable. I still hadn't quite finished the healing process from all of those near-death experiences, and, to be frank, I needed a nap.

"Come on, Aurora... I need you to drink this for me. Can you do that?"

I felt Watson's arm snaking around my shoulders, propping me up gently as he held a cup to my lips, tilting it back slightly as to let me drink. I didn't have my eyes open so I didn't pay attention to what it was, merely drinking as the Doc ordered. It tasted sweet, like strawberries, but it had a bit of the texture of powder so I assumed he had put a medication of some sorts in it.

"There you go..." he soothed, tenderly running his hand through my hair as I turned on my side again and buried my face in the arm of the couch. "Get some rest, hmm? Sherlock and I'll handle this."

I gave no protest, drifting right off to sleep.

"Aurora? Aurora, wake up. It's time to go."

I felt myself being pulled to my feet before I even opened my eyes, a strong arm wrapping around my shoulders to keep me upright as we walked.

"So what's the status, Doc?" I murmured, opening my eyes and rubbing them with a yawn.

"You are going to Buckingham Palace," was all he whispered with a smile. "And we need to get you freshened up."

By the time I was fully awake, I was protesting everything.

"No! No, you are not putting me in that! I will sooner go back to Parkurst!" I screeched, running out of the small room and trying desperately to reach the door. Holmes, on the other hand, merely grabbed me by the wrist, threw me back inside and stood in front of the door.

"Don't be a child about it and put the dress on."

"Sorry, Buster, but that isn't happening. Just let me go hack the central network, and I won't have to wear that hideous thing."

"It's a dress; it won't kill you," Watson piped up, holding that blasted piece of fabric fondly. "Besides, I think it'd look nice."

"You-" I pointed to the Doc. "-shut up. And you-" I pointed to Holmes. "-get out of my freaking way."

"Come on, Aurora. It's not going to be that bad. Besides, you'll get to America sooner if you just put this on," the Doc continued to prod. "It's Buckingham Palace, and only you're going. You should be honored."

"And you know what? Her royal majesty should be honored that I haven't killed her royal advisor yet," I snarled.

Ten minutes later, I was dragged kicking and screaming out of the room with that bloody dress on.

The dress was disgusting in my opinion, but the Doc seemed to think I looked cute although I will never see it that way. It was a long, pitch black evening gown sort-of-thing that just made me want to curl up in the corner and die. It was too form fitting, and I had to wear black heels which only made me trip every three steps even though they were only two inches high. I had on white pearl (clip-on) earrings and a necklace to match that Holmes tossed in my direction without a word, my wondering where on this earth he stole them from.

To be quite honest, I felt like a bloody dress-up doll.

"I will kill all of you," I growled as I stood outside Buckingham palace, refusing to enter.

"Come on. This is your chance to clear your name and find your parents! Isn't that what you wanted?" Watson prodded, gently patting me on the shoulder, but upon my getting ready to slap him, he moved his hand.

"It's what I want, but I didn't think playing dress-up would be involved!"

"I told you she would never go through with it, John. Come on, Aurora; let's take you back to Baker Street then."

"Wait, wait, wait," I sighed, dragging a hand down my face as I attempted to think of a way to make myself less miserable. "Just let me think..."

I suddenly cracked a grin. "Snappy-Pants, I'm going to need your coat."

"Much, much too tall," I murmured with disapproval, fingering the trench coat thoughtfully. "But I can make it work. Say, Doc, you wouldn't happen to have a needle on you...?"

Before long, I had Mister Holmes's coat hemmed properly and on (Don't ask how I managed that without cutting the bloody thing.), but overall I felt a tad less idiotic.

"I swear, you're a mini-Sherlock," Watson murmured with a smile, playfully flipping up the collar. "Doesn't she look like you? -Besides the dress, I mean."

"There's an appeal to her attire." In case you're wondering, that's Holmes's stubborn way of saying 'yes.'

"Now," I grinned, flipping up the collar all the way. "If you don't mind, I'm going to give Her Royal Highness a piece of my mind."

Buckingham Palace: A beautiful place with high ceilings, blah, blah, blah, high windows, etcetera, etcetera, and filled with government idiots. Yep. That about sums it up.

I suppose any normal bloke would be staring in awe at the beauteous architecture and all that, but to be honest, I didn't care. I didn't pay attention at all as some advisor led me through the halls, giving me the extensive history of each and every single piece of furniture in that bloody place.

That advisor (currently acting as my tour guide) was nothing special in appearance. He had brown hair parted to the right side, giving him the appearance of one of those rich snobs. This look was only enhanced by a silk suit that had probably cost nothing less than a million pounds, and he had this smile, this crooked grin, that made you think there was something more to him.

Of course, with my luck, there was. As the tour went on, I became increasingly aware of the gun wielding guards posted at every door.

I gave a nervous smile and a little salute as one of them growled in my direction. "Say, Mister-?"

"Arthur Fieldings," my creepy tour-guide answered, that same smile plastered to his face.

"Ah, yes, erm, Mister Fieldings, can I ask a question?"

"Yes."

"Why is there a sniper rifle pointed at me from the second floor?"

"Because you're under arrest by order of the Scotland Yard." There was that same smile, that same crooked grin was on his face. "Now do hold still. I'd hate to get blood on Her Majesty's rug."

"Well, I'd hate to get blood on Her Majesty's Tour Guide, but we're not going to have much luck; now will we? Hey, you know what?" I pried off those stupid heels and shoved them into his arms. "Hold these."

I dove to the ground as that sniper fired, my barely avoiding the bullet as I scurried back to my feet and randomly darted through the halls in a hope to get away from everyone who wanted to kill me.

You know, the whole "Let's-See-Who-Can-Brutally-Harm-Or-Even-Kill-Aurora" game tends to get annoying as time goes on.

I didn't pay attention as I ran through the corridors, merely attempting to get those men off my trail. I eventually just gave up running as I found myself in the dining hall, my heart pounding in my ears due to all that adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I honestly thought about handing myself over in that moment. It would have been so much simpler, and I wouldn't have had to run anymore. I wouldn't have to kill anymore. I wouldn't have to hurt anymore.

But I couldn't. It's a natural instinct in oneself to survive, and as I found those royal guards beginning to turn down the hallway, I found myself smashing through a window, ignoring the glass shards impeding my skin, and running for dear life.

"Doc!" I shouted, staggering over to him with a sort of limp-hop. I felt my arm being tossed around his shoulder instantly.

"Aurora, what happened? You were only gone for a half-hour-" Holmes started, only to be cut off.

"Snappy-Pants, just give me your arm, please?" I interrupted with a pathetic whine, but, in my defense, I had just jumped through a window and stepped on glass in the process. "I'll explain later, but let me just say I _really_ hate your brother."


	16. Near-Death Experiences Are My Life

I bit down on my bottom lip, trying not to scream as the Doc carefully removed the glass from my foot.

"Easy, easy... Just relax. Don't tense up."

I merely nodded, eyes clenched shut while trying to ignore the pain searing through my foot back at the flat.

I'm pretty sure I was crying as he pulled that shard out of my heel, but I'm not exactly sure. Those moments were all really a blur, a painful, fiery blur. It felt worse than the bullet, and at least I was unconscious for that.

"Hang in there, Aurora," he spoke gently, and I felt Watson's hand pat my own lightly. "Last one, alright? We're almost done. Just stay calm."

I choked back yet another cry as I felt that glass slide out from the inside of my foot, and as soon as it was bandaged, I was wrapped up in the Doc's arms, his guiding me to get comfortable on the sofa.

"Oh, you poor thing..." he murmured, easing down beside me and throwing an arm around my shoulders to pull me close. I found myself leaning in, letting him fuss over me like the overprotective doctor he was. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

I shook my head, burrowing into his side tiredly.

"You sure?"

"Yeah... Doc, why does everything want to kill me?"

He sighed, pulling me even closer. "I don't know, Aurora. You're different, and I guess the world doesn't like that."

"But I'm being chased down by the Scotland Yard," I barely whispered. "It's only a matter of time until they trace me back to you or Detective Inspector Lestrade cracks. I don't want you and Snappy-Pants getting hurt because of me..."

"Aurora, look at me." He lifted my chin gently, making sure I met his eyes. His voice was soft and gentle, and I couldn't help but listen to him as he spoke. "How many times must I tell you this? You mean the world, Aurora, and there is no way I'm letting you go through this alone. You're only twelve; you can't be expected to do everything you've done without a little guidance and support. Besides..."

He playfully pinched my nose, making me smile slightly. "...You're new when it comes to the outside world."

"I'm not new."

"Oh, yes you are," he laughed lightly. "You're also just a baby when it comes to human interaction."

"Am not..."

"Fine then. I suppose you could understand why I care for you, why I pamper you, and why I enjoy being overprotective of you." He gave me a smile as I retracted my statement, his giving my shoulder a little squeeze. I felt him rest his chin atop my head as he chuckled, "Told you so. Now don't try to strain yourself. The more rest you get the sooner you'll be able to walk again."

"This is nice," I yawned after a little while, absentmindedly sipping at the mug of hot chocolate the Doc had forced upon me. He smiled, giving my shoulders a squeeze with the soft remark, "Yep, no killing, no death, no running, just hot chocolate and the Telly. Not bad, eh?"

I nodded, burying my face in his shoulder. "Doc, is this even worth it? What if I just-"

Watson's expression darkened considerably, his teeth grit, and a fire flared in his eyes. "Don't you dare even think of giving up. Your parents were wrong to leave you, so wrong that it's despicable. You don't deserve this treatment, especially not from your own parents."

"Doc, I don't want you or Holmes's getting hurt..."

"Don't even think about us," he insisted. "You are the priority, and I know that I can speak for Sherlock when I say that we are going to get your name cleared."

Just then I found Holmes entering the room, and Doc instantly stood upon finding how. The detective had a split lip and a large bruise forming just beneath his eye along with a small cut running along his hair line. His hands were behind his back and clasped together by handcuffs, and Inspector Lestrade was the one arresting him.

"Greg!" the Doc growled in protest, hands turning into fists as he stood in front of me protectively. "I thought we could trust you."

"I'm truly sorry, Doctor, but I have orders. Anderson, get... get Aurora."

"My pleasure."

My heart seemed to have stopped, and I was numb with disbelief as I was forced to stand despite the blood dripping from my feet. Doctor Watson was screaming my name, and I could see him struggling to get free as I was cuffed and gripped tightly by the collar of my shirt and the arm.

"-rora! Run, Aurora!"

I seemed to be in slow motion as I looked up, finding my two companions yelling at me to run. They were desperate, fighting against the men holding them back, but I couldn't do anything. I was numb, unable to even move. That is, until Holmes elbowed me in the side and hissed, "Vatican Cameos."

I looked at him in confusion but ducked just in time as I saw him kick a revolver up from beneath the couch, firing it directly where my head was. I felt Doc's arms wrap around me for a moment, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead before prodding me towards the door. "Run, Aurora, and don't come back. We'll find you."

I knew that that was my one chance of escape, but I found myself refusing, darting for my two companions as a few men moved to restrain me. The world seemed like it didn't even exist as I screamed for them, struggling against my captors and reaching for the two people I actually felt safe with.

"Doc!"

Our fingers met briefly before we were torn apart, and I fought fiercely, struggling to get back to the only people that mattered as I was forced out of the flat.

"DOC! HOLMES!"

I broke away with that last cry, making a wild dash up the steps and into the Doc's arms. He held me close, a hand petting my hair as he pressed his lips atop my head and whispered, "We'll find you; I promise. I won't let you live your life alone-"

I let out a cry of protest as I was ripped from his arms again, his voice and even Holmes's still clear even as I was forced into the car.

"I promise we'll find you again! I swear it" came from Mister Holmes whereas the Doc growled, "Damn it, Lestrade. She's just a child! All she needs is some care!"

I was locked in an interrogation room, bound by a straitjacket yet again. My legs were shackled together and connected to the wall by a short chain, and my hands were as well. I was even chained to my chair, allowing no room for movement, much less breath. My head hung low, and I could see the small droplets of water littering the floor because of my tears. I physically could not pay attention to my interrogator, utterly broken inside.

I was incapable of even responding as a fist was rammed into my jaw repeatedly from either side. I simply couldn't. It didn't seem worth fighting for. I had lost. I hadn't just lost my war with my parents; I had lost my will to escape, to survive. More importantly, I had lost Holmes and Watson... I needed Snappy-Pants and _my _Doc back. I just did.

I don't know when the beatings ceased, but I do know I didn't care. I was so utterly destroyed on the inside that I couldn't feel the destruction on the outside. I was numb, unable to care for anything anymore.

"Hello, my dear. How was that little revenge of yours going, hmm?"


	17. An Old Enemy Brings Old Memories

I felt my chin being lifted by the fingertips of an unwanted source, and I opened my eyes to find a certain Mister Mafia standing before me, smiling with pride and the knowledge of knowing I was trapped.

"Oh, come on now, Honey, answer me."

"What's the point?" I finally growled, spitting blood on those finely polished wingtip shoes of his.

"That wasn't very nice; now was it?" Moriarty scolded lightly, wagging a finger in front of my face with a pout.

"Does it really look I give a schist?" I asked darkly, meeting his eyes as I felt a gun barrel being pressed against my temple and heard the hammer being pulled back.

"For one who's about to die, you don't look very frightened. Now come on, Hon, tell me all about it."

I laughed bitterly. "Listen, Jimmy Boy, you got problems, and so do I. Now why don't you go on and recruit Moran for help while leaving me to die, hmm? How's that sound?"

"Little Aurora's upset; now isn't she? Come now, my dear. It can't be too troubling for one whose life was lived in utter despair and violence." He suddenly stopped eyeing me with disapproval as he murmured to himself, "Oh, you didn't... You found trust? _Love_? In them? You disappoint me, Aurora. How _could_ you?"

"Don't you even dare say another word," I found myself growling, but before I knew it, Moriarty was on a roll, my screaming and snapping at that ridiculous fool in an attempt to make him shut his sadistic mouth.

"This John character means a lot to you, doesn't he? Oh, and Sherlock too? My, I was wrong, Aurora... I thought you were better than the lot of them. Perhaps if I-"

He stopped short upon his phone's ringing, and he gave me a giddy wave goodbye before leaving me to my next interrogator.

I screamed after him, demanding that he return, but I was shouting at nothing. "Come back here, you fool! I'm not through with you yet! Get your sorry arse back in here! I swear, if you even think of harming either of them, I will end you! I will rip out your heart! I will tear you apart limb from limb! I SAID GET BACK HERE!"

I finally began fighting against my chains, swearing and cursing as I struggled to break free. "You can't hold me here forever! I'll find a way out. I always do! I swear to you, I won't let you win!"

I don't know how many days passed in utter silence. I refused the meals offered to me by the government monstrosities. I refused to speak to anyone unless they were Mycroft Holmes, which they never were.

I felt sick, and I knew if I wanted to get better all I had to do was eat, but I couldn't; it went against my very nature. I knew wasting away would be better than being locked up for another dozen years, and I wouldn't allow myself to remain here so it was either death or escape for me.

I must have been dozing one day because I woke being picking up into a pair of warm arms.

"God, Aurora, you're much too light... What have they been doing to you?"

I found my arms being thrown around a neck, and I didn't even open my eyes. I knew who my rescuers were.

"Mister Holmes? Doctor Watson?" I questioned without opening my eyes, merely relaxing into the warm hold as I felt myself being carried somewhere, most likely out of that blasted place.

"It's us, Aurora. It's us. Just relax. We're getting you out of here."

I felt something snap with relief at the Doc's voice, and I only leaned deeper into his support.

"Moriarty...?"

"What? Aurora, I don't understand-"

"Doc, he was here," I murmured, burying my face in his shoulder. "I swear."

"If he was, he isn't now," Holmes spoke up impatiently, and I felt his cold hand on my forehead. "Now let's go. She's fading into unconsciousness as we speak."

"Doc...?"

"Yes, Aurora?"

"How did you find me?"

"Mycroft figured it out-" I moved to interrupt, but he shushed me gently. "Ssh... I'll explain everything to you later once we get out of here. Right now, you need to save your strength."

I bolted upright upon waking, eyes wide with utter horror. I was in a hotel, some sort of suite. Everything looked expensive here, from the plush carpet to the chandeliers hanging in the next room to the very paint on the walls. "Doc!"

"Aurora, it's alright," he immediately soothed, coming into the room. "We just didn't think that Baker Street was safe anymore."

I paused, catching a look at his appearance. "Doc, where are you going?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have your coat on."

"It's cold."

"We are in the most expensive place I've ever seen besides the Queen's royal dump, and this place doesn't have heat?"

He gave a sigh, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "I really hate it when you do that."

"Tell me where you're going."

"I'd rather not."

"_Please_? At the least don't leave me alone." I reached up to him with a rather pouty look, and I couldn't help but smile when he relented and came over.

"It's alright, Aurora; I've got you," he promised, perching on the edge of the bed to wrap me up in his arms. He rested his chin atop my head, letting me hide my face in his chest. "And I swear if anyone tries to harm you again..."

"_Ow_."

"Aurora, what's the matter?"

"I don't- _ow_ -even know," I winced. "Just a sudden surge of pain."

"Head?"

"No."

"Legs?"

"No."

"Arms?"

"No... I think it's the back. Why is this so hard to place?"

"Lay down on your stomach, Aurora. Your vertebrate might have been damaged last week, and I didn't notice it..."

"Last week?!"

"You've been out for a while. Now I'm going to apply some pressure to your back; tell me if anything hurts, alright?"

"Nothing, Doc. It hurts more at the base of my neck."

"Aurora, were you strangled?"

"I don't think so. Then again, I had lost the will to live so I wasn't really paying attention to anything."

"These are some really dark bruises on your neck... Relatively new too, because they weren't there when I examined you last."

"Maybe I just bruise late. When I get punched in the face, my black eye doesn't come until a few days later. Then again, don't bruises come later when the injuries are deeper or something like that?"

Doc sighed but nodded, moving to let his hand run through his hair as I rolled to my back. "I wish this wasn't so frequent."

I snorted. "You wish? How do you think I feel? -_Ow_. You still never answered my question though. Where are you going?"

"Sherlock left a while ago, and he should've been back by now. He didn't tell me where he was going, and I'm getting worried."

"Wait an hour and then go," I yawned, turning back to my side and curling up deeper in the bed as Watson tucked the covers closer around me. "He probably got caught up in some sort of hunt for cigarettes. I noticed he hasn't been using the patches lately."

"Get some rest. You still have to heal from that incident at Buckingham Palace, much less the time you were gone, and then we're going to get you fed; you're still much too small. Poor thing, you deserve better than this..."

I drifted listening to the Doc's voice.


	18. Nothing Can Ever Be Simple

So the first thing I eat? A fine meal of lamb and buttered rolls with boiled potatoes and parsley. Overall, it was simply delicious.

_Too bad it didn't stay down long._

The second I finished eating, I was bending over the loo, my insides turning into my outsides.

"It's a sign of healing," the Doc reassured softly before repeating himself for what had to be the seventh time since I had run to the loo. "It's a sign of healing. Your body's just dispelling of the rest of the virus from an injection you received in the interrogation. You're going to be fine, Aurora."

"I really would like to believe that but- _Oh God." _

"Just relax. Easy does it..."

Let me tell you something. When you are coughing up blood as well as the food you just ate after who knows how much torture and abuse, "easy does it" doesn't cut it.

"Sherlock? Where on this earth were you?"

The Doc's voice had me looking up sharply, but I immediately regretted it upon feeling another wave of nausea that had me over the bloody toilet again.

"I was out."

"What do you mean out?"

"Hello, girl's internal organs being coughed up here," I interrupted with annoyance before breaking down into a fit of dry heaves and coughs.

"Sherlock, pass me that towel sitting beneath the ice."

I felt a cool cloth being pressed to my forehead the second my coughing ended, and I relaxed into Watson's grasp, too internally and externally exhausted to care.

"Oh dear... You're burning up."

"No kidding."

"You're cranky when you're sick."

"You do realize that has been nearly every day we have known her, correct, John?" Holmes piped up.

"So?"

"HALF-DEAD PERSON HAS EARS!"

"I know; I know. Sorry, Aurora..." Doc whispered. "Come on; let's get you in bed."

I didn't protest it as he swaddled me in blankets, perching on the edge of the bed so he could rub my back.

"Little sips," he prodded gently, helping me sit up a little bit later as he pressed a warm cup of tea into my hands. "We don't want you to react badly to this as well."

I yawned, mumbling my thanks.

"No problem," he dismissed quietly, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead as I drank. He frowned. "Poor thing... You just can't catch a break; can you?"

I shook my head, muttering weakly, "I thought we already established this."

"I just don't understand why anyone would want to hurt you."

"I dunno. Some people just don't like it when they are confronted their idiocy."

"I just don't know... You're just so sweet and adorable-"

I stopped him there. "Sweet and adorable? _Really?_ Are we certain you know me?"

"I certainly do, but haven't we already had this argument before?"

"Oh never mind. You're not going to change your opinion anyways. Can I take a nap? M'tired..."

I awoke to voices.

"Sherlock, you can't be serious."

Intrigued, I clambered out of my bed, stopping at the doorway to listen.

"John, her parents are American diplomats, powerful ones at that. I have read the files. Mycroft has warned me of the consequences if we allow Aurora to go there. She could upset the peace, make her parents the disgrace of America if the reporters got word of this," Holmes answered quietly. "It could break one of the most important ties England has with America."

"Since when do you care about the government?"

"What of their family? They have three children, a four, seven, and ten year-old. Two girls, one boy."

"She's a part of that family too," Doc added quietly, almost resentfully. "She has a right to know them."

"They are good people, by standards go. They have founded charities, orphanages, hospitals-"

"They abandoned Aurora at an insane asylum! How good can they truly be?"

"It seems they have done everything to wipe that from their past-"

"You- You won't help me?" I stammered in interruption, unable to move from my spot in the doorway as they stared at me with horror.

"All charges against you have been dropped. Isn't that enough?" Holmes offered quietly, but he knew my answer before I even shook my head.

"They- They always leave," I found myself murmuring, almost in a daze as I absolutely broke, sinking down the wall until I was sitting against it. "Why did I expect anything else?"

"Aurora, please, it's not like that-"

I averted my gaze, pushing the Doc's hand off my shoulder. "Everyone always leaves; my parents did along with every small bit of comfort I've ever had, including Psycho Steve. Why should you be any different?"

Tears blurred my vision as I practically whimpered, "Oh, _please_ don't. _Please _don't leave me. I won't be able to stand it if you leave. I can't go through it again. I just can't. You guys mean the world to me and- and-"

I felt an arm wrapping around my shoulder and a hand closing around my own. "Oh, Aurora, hush now. It's alright..."

I shook my head, and I soon found myself sobbing into a sweater front. "No! No, it's not. The two people I've ever even _remotely_ cared about are leaving, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it!"

I didn't know what I was saying. It just all came out. It was like a dam had broken inside of me, letting out all of these emotions I didn't even know I felt.

"Oh, no, no, no... Aurora, Honey, we're not leaving you," he whispered, arms pulling me close. He rubbed circles in my back, not even flinching in discomfort as I cried into his shoulder and clutched at his jumper with fists. It smelled like him, cinnamon mixed with something that just made me feel warm and safe like nothing before. "We're not going anywhere..."

"Actually, John, that is a lie."

I felt myself being eased to my feet by a new pair of arms despite my whimpering protests. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, ashamed of myself for what a mess I had become.

"Aurora, it is alright. There is no need to hide your tears- You look cold," Mister Holmes murmured thoughfully, and I felt something soft wrap around my neck. "I apologize for what you overheard. It was uncalled for, and I was mistaken to even think of not assisting you."

I opened my eyes, finding myself wrapped up in a hug from the detective himself. His blue scarf was around my neck, and I found his arms were around my shoulders to hold me close.

"Y-You said it was a lie that you weren't- you weren't going anywhere. W-What did you mean?"

"Normally, you would be able to discern that yourself, I trust." He bent down until he was eye level with me, and he placed his hands on my shoulders, looking at me with a grin. "You've finalized the decision. We, Aurora, are going to the United States of America."


	19. America the Beautiful

"Aurora, are you alright?"

I couldn't move, positively transfixed by the private jet looming above us. "This is really happening, isn't it, Doc?"

Doc smiled and laughed, jogging back to my side. "Why yes, yes it is."

"No, I mean, this is _really_ happening. I'm really going to meet my parents," I murmured, looking down to discover that my fists had unconsciously clenched. "I'm going to meet the people who hated me enough to literally throw me away..."

"Hey, hey, hey," he whispered, laying his hands on my shoulders. "It's going to be alright. Now come on..."

He grabbed my hand, gently pulling me towards the jet. He grinned somewhat excitedly, looking up at the massive flying machine before us. "Mycroft didn't get this for us to waste it."

I soon found myself being pampered in luxury, aboard one of the most expensive jets the nation had to offer.

"_Really?!_ You can jump off buildings into oceans and leap from rooftop to rooftop, but you can still be afraid of _heights?!_"

I gave a sheepish smile, clutching at the armrests of my leather seat almost desperately as I met the detective's eye. "Yeah, well, remember the old phrase 'don't look down'? It kinda works."

"We should be there in about eight hours. 'Til then, just relax," Watson tried to soothe, gently tucking a blanket around my shoulders. "Need anything; just ask."

I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut and wondering where on earth my composure had decided to get to.

"Doc?" It was a couple hours since we had last spoken, and I was trying to sleep, but I was just too anxious. I nudged his shoulder before taking to poking him in the cheek in an attempt to prod him awake. "Doc, wake up. Come on... _Please?_"

He eventually stirred, murmuring, "What? What is it, Aurora?"

"I can't sleep..."

"Something bothering you?"

I shook my head, plopping down in the seat beside him and closing my eyes with a sigh. "I don't know... I just don't know."

He shifted, throwing his blanket over me despite my protests that I had my own.

"You need it more than me, Aurora," Watson stated simply, smiling as I moved to curl up in my seat. "Now just try and relax, alright?"

We talked a little while more, but I didn't pay it much mind because, before long, I had drifted to his voice.

When I woke, we had landed, and the Doc and Snappy-Pants were grabbing their small duffel bags. Doc grinned at me when I woke, and he teased, "Get enough beauty sleep?"

I wasn't in the mood and merely replied dryly, "I got sleep, but it sure as hell wasn't that kind."

He tossed a hairbrush to me, and I rolled my eyes with a groan, raking the brush through my hair quickly and impatiently, before I threw it back to him. I turned to the detective, ordering concisely, "Snappy-Pants, address."

"Fifteen minutes from here, but we need to get to the hotel first; we must discuss our plan of action."

Of course I didn't listen. Why would I?

The second we were checked into that hotel, I tackled the two in a hug.

"This is unexpected," was all Holmes murmured, but Doc smiled warmly, wrapping me up close in his arms without question.

"I'll be right back...!"

"Where are you going?"

"Loo. I'm allowed to do that right, Doc?"

The second I entered the bathroom, I locked the door behind me and moved to the window. I pried it open, grinning as I found myself on the second floor.

"Perfect," I grinned, but I froze momentarily upon hearing the conversation going on outside the door. "Sherlock, have you seen my gun?"

I smirked to myself, glancing down at the Sig Sauer P226R pistol that now I held in my hands. Oh, pickpocketing was just _too_ easy.

"You had it with you a few moments ago, John. Have you seen my wallet? It was right-" Holmes's voice faltered, and I could tell he was beginning to piece it together. "_No_. No, she couldn't. She _wouldn't_."

"What?"

"My wallet- It has the address of her birth parents."

I was gone before they even put two and two together.

I didn't dare catch a cab, knowing full well that nobody could be trusted at this point. I had one thing on my mind, and that was cold, sweet revenge. I pushed past anyone walking in my way, and it became so increasingly annoyingly to pass through all those idiots that I simply stepped into the middle of the street and walked between lines of traffic. I ignored the voices yelling at me to get out of the street and just kept going until I found myself staring up at the gate of a gigantic mansion, something that merely made me loathe my parents even more.

Making up my mind, I climbed over the gate before striding to the front door of the home.

I broke my way into the estate, ramming my elbow into the glass window of the door and reaching my arm in to unlock it. I should've known better, but I couldn't think straight. My vision was tinted red with fury, and there was something deep down inside of me that knew this was wrong, but the rest of me just wanted to keep going. I found myself kicking open every door I found, the gun I had swiped off of the Doc at the hotel being held in a firm grip in my right hand. I counted nearly _forty_ rooms in the home that were not even furnished, much less used, making me come to despise that home even more. Eventually, after what felt like an hour of searching, I found the master bedroom where two adults were talking.

They looked up in alarm once I entered, and they backed themselves into a corner on their own accord upon seeing my weapon. They were trying not to cry, and the wife, a beautiful woman with big green eyes and fair skin with blonde hair, was hiding in the husband's arms, a handsome man with brown eyes, copper skin, and black hair. The man spoke first, and what he said made me want to slit both their throats.

"Please, _please_, don't hurt my children. Take me; just please don't hurt them. They mean the world to me."

I laughed, a sick twisted sound even to my ears. I couldn't help it. The irony, it was just too immense. "You really don't know who I am, do you? You can't, especially if you just said that."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?" the woman cried, clinging to her husband even as she looked at me.

I bent low, leaning down so we were eye level, and I could snarl, "I'm your daughter."

"No... No, it can't be. You- You're alive? Oh, Honey..."

"Don't call me that!" My yell forced the man back away, and I shot the flower vase resting on their nightstand to show them I meant business. "You've no right!"

"No right? I'm your father-!"

"You lost the honor of that title long I ago," I growled. "Fathers don't throw their children into mental asylums upon birth!"

"We had no choice, Sweetheart-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" I was losing it; I honestly was. I jabbed the gun in their direction, demanding, "What is my name? You don't know it, do you?"

"Please, let us explain. A child would have just been a distraction at that time, and our careers were just starting to take off. If it ever came to light that we had had a child at that time, we'd be ruined-"

"You could have left me in an orphanage, on the street, at a church; anything would have been better than that nightmare!" I was shaking now, but my gun hand never wavered. "Do you know the torture I went through at Parkhurst? Do you understand how I fell asleep, wondering every night when my mother and father were going to come and take me home, proving my captors wrong, proving you loved me?!"

I choked on a cry, barely whispering, "But you never came... I was beaten, starved, strangled, electrocuted, tortured... But that all paled in comparison to the pain I felt when I heard about you, when I heard that you had had other children."

I had to wrap my arm around my stomach to keep from doubling over. "I always thought that maybe you just didn't want to be parents, you just weren't ready, you were just scared! I was wrong; you had more children. You had three more children, sisters and brothers I will never meet!"

Something made me snap, and I felt the tears before I knew they were there, my gun hand dropping to my side. It was a soft crying, the wail of a newborn. "You- You had another? How- How could you? You have four children now, but you couldn't keep me?"

"Aurora! Aurora, where are you?!" Doctor Watson was standing in the doorway, his face a mixture of disbelief and concern as he reached out a hand to me. "Aurora, please don't do this..."

"I'm broken because of them," I spat bitterly, falling to my hands and knees, but my hand never left the pistol. I felt so completely and utterly _exhausted_ all of a sudden; it was like every ounce of the physical, mental, and even emotional trauma that I had endured was finally striking back all at once. "I don't belong, and I never will; it's physically impossible."

"Aurora, it's not true. Don't believe what the headmaster forced on you- He was lying. You're a brilliant little girl that just needs a little love," he soothed, taking a tentative step into the room, and, when I didn't send him away, he took another. "I've tried so hard to hide it, but I'm mad. _Born mad_, even. I have to be if I thought that I would ever have a family, that I would ever belong-"

"Aurora, let me adopt you!"

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I raised my eyes to meet the doctor's. "_What?_"

He didn't answer, simply taking a few steps closer. "Just let them go."

"You really thought I was going to kill them?" I asked quietly, voice sounding so unlike my own. "Despite how much they deserve it, I'm not that sadistic... I just brought the gun as insurance."

"Aurora?" the man piped up. "Is that your name?"

I didn't answer, refusing to meet my captives' eyes. "I'm- I'm sorry... I am so, so sorry. I can't believe I did this. If you never forgive me, I understand."

"It's us who needs the forgiving if we really did this to you," the woman spoke up quietly as her husband eased the both of them to their feet. "We won't press charges if it means anything."

"Promise me one thing," I demanded more coldly as they started to leave. They turned in the doorway, letting me speak. "Once I leave, you must swear to this: you have to give my brothers and sisters everything I didn't. Make sure they're loved, and never, in the name of all that is good, never leave them."

They looked to the Doc, and I found I couldn't bear to grace the husband or wife with names or titles after all they had done to me. They weren't my parents; they never would be. I couldn't even bear to look at my own last name or even learn theirs. I had had the information in my grasp, but I just couldn't do it.

The husband met Watson's eye and whispered, "Make sure you do the same for her; don't let our mistake ruin her," and the second they left, I broke down. "Doc, did you- Did you really just-?"

"Aurora, I've wanted to do it the second we met." He knelt beside me, carefully uncurling my hand from where its grip had tightened around my revolver. He pressed his forehead against mine, clutching me close to his chest and letting me nuzzle his shoulder as he continued to whisper, "Will you let me? Will you let me make us a family?"

I smiled despite the tears and looked up at him, but it seemed like that was answer enough as he pressed his lips to my forehead and murmured, "Aurora Watson, my little girl... I could get used to that. What do you think? Do you think you could ever get used to calling me Daddy? "

I choked on a laugh, wrapping my arms around him and making him hug me closer. "I think I could do that."

My adventure was over. Maybe it wasn't the ending I had expected, but this one wasn't all bad either. There were still some loose ends to tie up and an adoption to arrange, of course, but I was fine overall. I mean, sure, that whole ordeal with my parents hadn't gone exactly to plan, but I now had a father, someone who actually cared about me, and, I suppose, that was all I ever really wanted in the end.

* * *

**Important Author's Note:**

**I would just like to thank all of you for sticking with _Born Mad_ until the very end, and I'm sad to say that this is it: the end. I do have in mind a sequel of sorts for this, but I would love to hear your opinion on the matter, as I am not sure I will wish to publish said sequel. I am open to any and all criticism on _Born Mad, _and I would also absolutely love to hear your responses to these questions. Firstly, would you like a sequel? If yes, should it be more novel-based or perhaps a series of one-shot like experiences (more like multi-shots, though, considering I take _forever _to get my point across)? And lastly, do you have any ideas for the before-mentioned sequel? I'll accept any ideas and try to work most into the story one way or another. **

**If you'd answer these questions, it'd mean the world to me, but I'd also appreciate any feedback/criticism on_ Born Mad_ or my writing style. So, if you have any responses on the matter of the sequel, feedback on _Born Mad_, or would just like to chat, feel free to drop a review or PM me! Like I said before, it'd just make my day if you would. :)**


	20. Sequel is Up and Running!

Hello, my faithful followers! This is not a chapter, but I do think you will be pleased to know that the sequel is underway! I've completed a decent number of chapters, and I'll start posting them now so you can have a good number of updates. It's more of a collection of short stories instead of one main storyline. Some chapters will be based on the show's episodes, and others will be completely the figment of my imagination.

So, with this promise, I'll direct you to my new story: "The Not So Domestic Adventures of Aurora Watson"


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